


A Marriage of Convenience - Time of Trial

by Dorothea_Greengrass



Series: A Marriage of Convenience [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M, Murder, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2020-11-27 10:16:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 42
Words: 151,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20946701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorothea_Greengrass/pseuds/Dorothea_Greengrass
Summary: The tenth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts is approaching. Ginny hasn't given up on her plan to win Harry back and decides to return to England.Harry and Daphne have dealt with the blows of the past, and their marriage seems stable. But will it survive the threat Ginny poses?Then a murder occurs, and Harry and Daphne face the biggest challenge of their marriage.This story finally picks up where the prologue ended.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to my fantastic editor Shygui. He contributed so much to this story that I rightfully should name him as co-creator. I would, if AO3 let me.

_ **Malibu, California, April 2008** _

Ginny stood at the edge of the pool terrace of her house in Malibu, California, and looked down at the papers in her hand.

The house was her secret retreat; bought from part of the compensation she'd got out of the divorce agreement after her third marriage, it was situated on a cliff just below Pacific Coast Highway in a solely Muggle neighbourhood. None of her devoted fans in the wizarding world would think of looking for her in the ultra-modern, ultra-minimalistic concrete monstrosity that looked like a two-story bomb shelter from the outside, all be it an elegant one.

She didn't care much for the minimalistic design of the house and its interior, either. What had captured her the moment she'd set foot into the open plan ground floor that overlooked the pool and a long, narrow garden was the view on the Pacific Ocean, and the eternal, soothing sound of the waves slapping on the small, private beach at the foot of the cliff.

It reminded her of the view from _Shell Cottage,_ the house Bill had bought for Fleur not long after they were engaged. Shortly after that, she'd become Harry's girlfriend, and she'd begun dreaming of the house Harry would buy for her: a house on a cliff where she'd live with Harry and their three children, a boy who looked like him, and little twin girls with fiery red hair, and they'd be happy for ever after …

She let out a bitter snort. Little had she known back then that all her dreams of a future with the Boy-Who-Lived would be shattered into tiny pieces not even three weeks later. Dumbledore got murdered, Harry broke up with her and left her behind to go on his next adventure with Ron and Hermione. It had seemed to her she'd always been the one who was left behind: little Ginny, too small to play with the big kids, too dumb and naïve to tell her anything important.

Back at Hogwarts, she'd had to pay the price for her naïvité. She hadn't seen it coming; she'd still been basking in the memory of the heroic way she'd dealt with his break-up, and the kiss to remember her she'd given him on his seventeenth birthday. To her surprise nobody believed that Harry and her had broken up for good, least of all the Carrows. His faithfulness and loyalty to those he cared for were too well known, so they just assumed it had been a hoax. The Carrows had tortured her again and again in the vain attempt to learn Harry's whereabouts from her.

Her eyes swerved to the tanned, dark haired man who dozed in a lounge chair next to the pool. A reluctant smile crept over her face. If it hadn't been for him, she would've likely died within the first two weeks of her sixth year.

Something had broken in her when she realised that Harry had left her without a second thought to her safety under the new regime at Hogwarts. But her saviour had been there, he had saved her and made sure she was prepared as best as she could for the fights ahead of her.

Too bad they both didn't have the money to live their dream …

She sighed; her gaze returned to the papers in her hands. She was free, again, her fourth marriage was dissolved - and not one day too soon, truth be told. She traced her hand over the faint scar on her right forearm. Giles had been an abusive bastard, she couldn't recount the many times he'd beaten her up and she had to mask her bruises as "training accidents". However, she'd known before her marriage into what she was getting herself, and had decided the price was worth the … unpleasantness. And she'd made him pay. His public image was his weak spot, and she'd used that to her advantage. Either he'd agree to her demands, or she'd get the money by selling the exclusive interview about her sufferings during their marriage to one of the big international magical papers. Suffice to say that their divorce agreement had been the most … satisfying out of the four she had.

With another sigh, she folded the divorce papers, stashed them in the back pocket of her faded, very short cut-off jeans, and looked out onto the ocean. Here she was, Ginny Weasley, highest paid Quidditch player in the world, sought-after model, international superstar, twenty-six years young, rich, independent, and of a wild beauty that made males all over the world lust after her.

But she also had four marriages under her belt, had estranged herself from her family and was - empty.

She kept staring on the ocean, blind for the beauty of the scenery. All she saw was a handsome face with fascinating emerald eyes under a mop of untamable black hair. Everything came down to him; she was the shell of the Ginny Weasley she'd been once ever since the day he'd broken up with her after Dumbledore's funeral.

She narrowed her eyes, her mouth set in a grim line. It was about time she changed that. She wouldn't be able to go on, live in peace or whatever, before she'd got even with him.

The touch of a tender hand on her shoulder startled her out of her black thoughts.

'We've finally reached our goals, haven't we?' he asked in a soft voice.

She turned around, encircled his waist with her arms, and leaned her head against his broad chest. His heart thumped like a hammer, the only indication that he wasn't as calm as he pretended to be at the outside.

'I guess so.'

'You guess so?' He lifted her face with his index finger so that she was forced to look at him. His lips were curled in an amused smile, however, it didn't reach his eyes. His gaze was guarded, apprehensive, as if he already knew what she was going to say.

She hesitated; should she really go on with her plans? Wasn't it about time to let go of the past and concentrate on their future?

The decision was made in a split second. She'd nourished her grudge too long to let go of it that easily. Harry Potter owed her, and she'd make him pay.

'You know about my long-term plan, love,'

'Potter!' he spat.

He let go of her, almost pushing her away, turned his back at her and carded a hand through his wavy dark hair. His shoulders raised and lowered in a deep breath.

She loved his self-control, it was such a contrast to the men of her family, such a contrast to Harry … It added to his appeal, that touch of mystery and danger had drawn her towards him ever since he'd rescued her and taken her to his room in the Slytherin dungeons that fateful night.

When he turned back to her, his face was calm and composed; it betrayed nothing of the disappointment she knew he felt.

'Don't you think it's about time to let go of that old grudge of yours, love? I mean … It's kinda obvious that Potter isn't interested, isn't it? For five years you've done everything, but parade naked in front of him to catch his interest whenever he was over here, and he didn't go for the bait once.'

What?

Her chest constricted; spots flashed at the edge of her vision. She squinted at the young man in front of her through narrowed eyes. Had he really said these hurtful words?

'You … you …' Her mouth found it impossible to form words. Tears shot into her eyes; she whirled around, her fists clenched at her sides, and she stared out onto the ocean without seeing anything.

'You don't understand. It's something I have to do to get closure,' she finally managed to get out.

He stepped behind her and put his hands on her shoulder. 'I understand more than you give me credit for, love. However, what he did to you is so very far in the past. I don't want to see you get hurt.'

His face was close to hers, and his warm breath sent a shiver down her spine. Ginny clenched her fist; this wasn't fair, once again he used her physical attraction to him to get his way. She wouldn't allow him to manipulate her. She took a deep breath, fighting off his allure.

'Harry will never hurt me - at least not intentionally.' That was true, the noble prat didn't have it in him.

There was a tender squeeze of her shoulders, and again she shivered. 'That might be true, but what about his wife? Remember, she's a snake; she won't be held back by the same moral values that apply to Potter.'

He must be kidding. She snorted. 'His wife? That wet washcloth? I've dealt with her before and won each time, love. She won't stand a chance the moment I'll begin fighting for Harry in earnest.'

His hands clenched into her shoulders, almost painfully. 'So, you're planning on returning to England?'

Ginny leaned back against him, revelling in the warmth of his hard body. She should've known he was already thinking one step ahead and anticipating her next move. 'Yeah, it's about time I meet her on her home turf. The tenth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts is in a couple of weeks. I got an invitation to the annual Veterans Ball today. That's exactly the right time and place to announce my return to magical England.'

The grip on her shoulders intensified. 'Are you sure about that, love?'

A cold shiver ran down her spine, as if someone was walking over the space where her grave would be. She'd never given a fig for superstitions like this, and wouldn't begin to right now, either.

'Yes …' Her voice faded, and she swallowed. 'Yes, I am sure.'

Who was she convincing, him or herself?

He took another deep breath. 'So mote it be.' His voice was a whisp in the air.

She looked out onto the ocean and suppressed another shudder. No, she wasn't superstitious at all. But where, by Circe, did that feeling of dread come from that all of a sudden threatened to overtake her?

'So mote it be,' she repeated.

* * *

_ **The Silver Phoenix Resort, May 8th 2008** _

The reception rooms at the _Silver Phoenix Resort _rivalled the best that the U.S.A. had to offer. It seemed British magical society was at last finding its way out of the backwater and was attempting to join the worlds more advanced magical societies in the twenty-first century.

Ginny cast another surreptitious look at the mingling ball guests, a glass of elven champagne in her hand. Every now and then she took a sip of the expensive drink, and tried to comprehend the amazing changes that had taken place in the ten years she'd been away.

While the men still adhered to formal dress robes, albeit the modern ones that mostly resembled a Muggle dinner jacket, almost all women had opted for fashionable Muggle dresses, and none of the women seemed to care about the modesty that had been expected of magical women before the war. The dresses were throughout more sexy and revealing than she'd thought she'd ever see in a ballroom on the British Isles.

Ginny suppressed a frustrated sigh and looked down at her own expensive designer ball gown. So much for her idea of standing out of the crowd in an opulent, off the shoulder ball gown of golden lace, with a sweetheart neckline over layers of wide swinging chiffon petticoats.

It had seemed to be a good idea when she came across the dress in New York the day she'd left for England: the colour was a subtle reminder of the dress she'd worn at Bill's wedding to that Veela tart. Harry hadn't been able to tear his eyes off her that night, and he surely would remember that when he saw her in a gown of the same colour. The wide skirt gave her a touch of youth and innocence, while the tight bodice and the way the dress hugged her chest and her hips sent a completely different message: she was a grown up woman who had a lot to offer. Even Harry should be able to understand that.

Unfortunately, there were at least ten women in her vicinity who wore a ball gown of exactly the same cut and several others who sported similar colours.

She frowned and took another sip of champagne while her eyes wandered to her escort. It was a pity she wouldn't be able to rouse Harry's jealousy with a fantastic date by her side. After almost ten years in the U.S.A. she'd lost touch with her former friends and found herself in the uncomfortable position to have nobody of real standing in this country she could ask to take her to the ball.

She sighed; of course it was perfectly acceptable to be escorted by her agent; after all, he'd done that many times in the past when her current husband wasn't available or she'd been single between two marriages. Though, it was just slightly better than having to ask her only unmarried brother, Charlie, to take her to the ball, and it as sure as hell wasn't the impression she wanted to make on Harry. She needed to be desirable and just out of reach …

She sighed again. At least she'd managed to turn up before Harry and his timid wife did. This way, she could watch him from the background and plan her next moves. It should be easy to get rid of Greengrass - .

A commotion on the gallery at the opposite side of the reception area, where the Floo entrance to tonight's festivities was located, made her look up. The Floo was cordoned off along both sides; flocks of reporters and photographers with cameras at the ready crowded behind the ropes. A red carpet led from the Floo down the grand staircase towards the reception area and guaranteed a good view of new arrivals.

The green flames of the Floo framed a couple emerging from the fireplace. The raven haired man helped the petite, blonde woman by his side out of the fireplace. Harry and his Merlin bedamned wife had arrived, finally. Cameras flashed, and the shouts of the reporters were clearly audible down here, even above the ruckus the many people in the reception area made.

A small, predatory smile appeared on Ginny's lips. Harry wouldn't be able to escape her tonight.

Ginny put the champagne flute on the bar table next to her. Her eyes took in the sight of Harry, and she moistened her lips. Dressed in black, dinner jacket style robes that showed off his broad shoulders, and an emerald green waistcoat with silver embroidery that emphasized his eyes he was prime eye-candy.

He had his arm around the waist of his petite blonde wife, who seemed to be glued to his side, and looked down on her. The next moment he had led her past the obnoxious reporters, and they swept down the grand staircase.

It was impossible to take her eyes off them. At least she wasn't making a spectacle out of herself: all eyes in the room were on the Potters. Ginny's stomach hardened, and she clenched her teeth until her jaw hurt. It should've been her at Harry's side …

Her eyes appraised magical England's hottest celebrity couple. Either they had a very good image consultant on their payroll, or Greengrass was far cleverer than she had given her credit for. Her ball gown was made of a subtle shimmering silver material that matched the embroidery on Harry's waistcoat. A diamond necklace sparkled around her long and slender neck, and her light blonde hair shimmered like moonlight in the light of the chandeliers.

That choice of colors and accessoires was a masterstroke: the light and shimmering colours were not only the perfect background for Harry's dark handsomeness, but complimented his looks. Damn, for anyone who didn't know Harry and his real feelings as good as she did, they looked as if they were made for each other.

Ginny took another look at Harry's wife. Though she didn't have her spectacular colours, there was no denying she was an attractive woman. Her body more than made up for what her face lacked: only very few women had the figure for the tight fitting, strapless mermaid dress she wore. Damn it, when had the insignificant mouse become that sexy?

Harry and his wife took their place at the end of the reception line; his arm still was around her waist, and with his other hand he now cupped her chin in his hand, caressing her cheekbone, and turned her face towards him. He said something to Greengrass, a slight frown on his face. Her answer didn't seem to appease him, for the frown stayed on his face. Greengrass put a finger on his lips, and they exchanged a long look. At last, Harry leaned forward, kissed his wife, and let go of her chin, though his other arm was still draped around her waist. They both smiled at each other in a way that excluded everyone else in the room.

A burning sensation spread in Ginny's stomach, and she clenched her teeth. While she could understand the need for him to play the devoted husband in public, there was no need to overdo it like he just had done, surely he had some standards. That was revolting; by the way he couldn't seem to keep his hands off his wife, and the tenderness he showed towards her, he had almost fooled her in believing he was in love with his insignificant ant of a wife. Of course, that just couldn't be, it was well known that Potter men fell in love at a very young age and loved only once in their life.

From the corner of her eyes Ginny watched the reaction of the people surrounding her to the public display of the Potters. All eyes were naturally directed at the young couple. That wasn't surprising; ever since his return to the magical world aged eleven, Harry had been at the center of public interest, and it had got worse after his defeat of Voldemort.

However, what she now saw in the faces of the wizards and witches surrounding her was not only the plain hero worship she had seen whenever she'd made a public appearance with Harry in the few, short weeks she had had with him after the Battle of Hogwarts. No, there were soft smiles and wistful sighs from the women, and many chagrined male stares were directed at Harry, not that he was aware of that.

A matron about her mother's age in a raspberry-red ball gown let out a deep sigh. 'Oh, they are so sweet together! They really look and act like a couple out of a fairytale, don't they?'

Ginny picked up her glass of champagne and took a sip to hide her disgusted expression. She had forgotten that British wizards and witches loved to exaggerate. If they only knew how clueless Harry was around the female sex. She chuckled into her glass. Harry, the model husband, that was priceless. No, even Saint Potter was a male like any other: he was turned on by his wife's body, but there wasn't more to it than that. Harry had given his heart away at a very young age, there wasn't anything left for Greengrass, other than the physical side of their relationship. After all, even Saint Potter had to have needs.

The arrival of more ball guests obscured Harry and his wife from her vision. Soon after that, the doors to the ballroom opened. She drained her glass and put her hand on the arm of her escort.

'Shall we go inside and find our places?'

He complied by offering her his arm, and they drifted inside the ballroom among the swarm of ball guests who had the same idea.

As always, she gained a lot of attention, although not as much as she might have garnered in the U.S.A.. Many curious eyes were on her and her date, and she received the admiration she was due with a charming smile and a modest inclination of her head.

The huge ballroom was designed like an atrium. The dance floor in the middle of the room was crowned by an at least twenty feet high vaulted glass roof. Dozens of round dinner tables were set up under the arcades that ran along the four sides of the room. Rambling Rainbow Roses climbed the pillars of the arcades, and sweet smelling Rainbow Roses also decorated the table. The long rays of the late spring sun strew golden lights on the scene through the glass ceiling. It was like sitting somewhere on a plaza in Italy.

She looked around. Where were they supposed to sit?

'I have the honour of having you as my dinner partner tonight, Ginny,' a booming voice said behind her.

Ginny turned around and gave the Minister for Magic her most charming smile. 'What a pleasant surprise, Kingsley.'

Indeed, it was perfect. Harry had followed the Minister, his wife by his side, and Hermione and Ron brought up the rear. As the heroes of the war they'd most likely sit at a table with the Minister.

She cast a surreptitious look at Greengrass. Her face had assumed a decidedly green hue the moment she recognised her. Merlin, that woman _was _a wet dishrag: the last time they'd clashed she'd also lost her bowels. Maybe she could get rid of her with a few well-placed barbs during dinner.

Her escort held the chair out to her, and she sat down with a soft smile on her lips.

This ball would be a night to remember.

_t.b.c._


	2. Chapter 2

_ **The Silver Phoenix Resort, May 8th 2008** _

Daphne and Harry followed Kingsley and his wife into the ballroom. It had become tradition that they were seated at the minister's table for the formal dinner that preceded Veterans Ball, together with Ron, Hermione, Neville, and his wife Hannah. Only the fifth couple on the table of ten changed from year to year, depending on whom Minister Shacklebolt or the Wizengamot deemed worthy of that special honour. This year, being the tenth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, it probably would be some foreign dignitary from one of the countries that had lent a helping hand to magical Britain with the rebuilding activities after the war.

She nodded and smiled at acquaintances at the tables left and right while she followed Kingsley on Harry's arm, and didn't pay much attention to where they were heading. A suppressed cuss word from Harry, however, made her look up. The next moment their small procession came to a halt behind Kingsley and his wife.

'I have the honour of having you as my dinner partner tonight, Ginny,' Kingsley said in his booming voice.

Daphne's heart missed a beat and plummeted straight into the deepest pit of her stomach. The Weaselette, Merlin damn her. She was not yet ready to face her, and she was definitely not ready to make small talk to that bitch all dinner long.

As if on cue, dizziness washed over her once again, she swayed on her feet and leaned heavily against Harry.

He had stiffened at the sight of the Weaselette; when he realised her discomfort, however, he tightened his grip around her waist and gave her another of his scrutinising looks from under furrowed eyebrows. 'You're still pale; are you sure you can make it through tonight? We can leave if you need to,' he whispered into her ear.

There was no way she'd leave the ball, not as long as that woman was here and after Harry. She turned her head and gave him a soft kiss on his cheek. 'Of course I will; don't worry that much, honey.' Her stomach gave another uncomfortable squirm. It still remained to be seen if she'd make it through the evening.

Harry led her to her place and held out her chair for her. She sat down with a polite nod to the Weaselette, and received the barest of nods in return. Instead of leaving immediately and greeting the Weaselette, Harry took her hand in his and raised it to his lips. Her breath hitched; she looked up at him with wide eyes: Pureblood gestures like this were way out of his comfort zone, she couldn't remember him ever doing that.

His eyes still were full of concern as he looked down at her. 'Take care,' he mouthed, and kissed her knuckles once again. He lowered his hand and caressed her cheek with the back of his index finger, running it down and under her jaw line. Warmth spread through her body and engulfed her like a comforting hug, and the dizziness dissipated.

Harry winked at her, then walked around the table to greet the Weaselette and her escort.

'Harry!' the Weaselette squealed. 'It must be years since we last met. How are you?' She reached up with her arms to him; there was no doubt she expected a hug from him.

Daphne bit her lips. Had that been their usual greeting during all these years when Harry met her in the U.S.A., but never talked about it?

He surprised her when he spared her the humiliation of an affectionate greeting with his ex-girlfriend on Veterans Ball, at least fifty percent of the attendees were their former classmates and well aware of the history Harry and the Weaselette shared. Instead, he gave her the formal greeting with a bow and an indicated kiss on the knuckles, and left her immediately after that to exchange a handshake with her escort. In stark contrast to that, his greetings with Neville and Hannah, who had turned up soon after them: in addition to the formal greeting he hugged Hannah and kissed her cheek, and Neville got a handshake and a one-armed hug.

Harry took his seat in the place of honour next to Hestia, with Hermione on his other side. Within another minute the three were engrossed in a lively conversation, with Ron throwing in his two Knuts from his place between Hestia and Hannah.

Hannah looked at Daphne across the table and rolled her eyes.

Daphne chuckled, despite of the unease that still lurked just under the surface of her consciousness. 'Poor Hannah,' she said to Neville, who slipped into the seat beside her. 'Those four are talking politics yet again. Had I known what a monster they created when the Wizengamot offered Harry the hereditary seat, I never would have encouraged him to take it.'

Neville laughed out loud at that. 'Yeah, I never would've imagined Harry becoming the consummate politician - nor Ron following him down that path, for that matter.'

Daphne joined his laughter. She pulled a bottle of sparkling water out of the cooler in front of her and poured herself a glass. 'It's not that surprising really when you think about it,' she said, putting the bottle back. 'Ron said he'd always have Harry's back, and so did Hermione. I guess there's not such a big difference between hunting down a Dark Lord and leading a faction on the Wizengamot that strives for nothing less than overturning the system.'

They laughed again. Daphne took a sip of her water. Over the rim of her glass she caught a glimpse of the Weaselette, and she stiffened. The tart tossed her fiery mane over her shoulder and sent a seductive side-glance towards her husband. Harry - Morgana bless him - didn't even notice, and the smile on her face, confident of success, turned into a pout and a frown.

Neville sniggered. 'Seems there's someone put out that her cheap tactics don't work.'

Daphne relaxed. Good, old Neville! He'd become one of her staunchest supporters since her marriage to Harry: he was her third cousin and a Pureblood, so he knew that blood was thicker than water. His offense on her behalf meant a lot to her, and she put her hand on his arm and gave him a thankful squeeze.

Neville winked at her, then joined the conversation among Hestia, Harry, Hermione and Ron with a question of his own. Before even the first course was served, the whole table was drawn into a discussion of the latest attempt of Harry's faction to railroad a bill against discrimination.

Daphne chuckled to herself. His days as the leader of the Hogwarts Resistance had done wonders for her cousin's self-esteem. Just like Harry, he carried himself with quiet confidence and was looked upon as a leader by the population of magical Britain. The way he steered the conversation and drew everyone into it was almost Slytherin.

Well, not everybody partook in their conversation. She cast a surreptitious look at the Weaselette.

She looked at her plate, and a deep frown marred her unfortunately still beautiful features. From her former attempts to change the topic it was not difficult to deduce that the current discussion went clearly over her head. It was her tough luck that Kingsley was as consummate a politician as Harry and forgot everything about his dinner partner over the interesting topic.

Daphne pushed the food on her plate around while she enjoyed the show; her stomach still hadn't settled down properly, and her usual hearty appetite had deserted her. She cast another quick look at the stormy face of the Weaselette. Had something like this happened at her dinner table, she would've felt obligated by her duties as the hostess to step in and lead the conversation into another direction so that the woman wasn't left out. Tonight, however, that was Hestia's duty. What a pity that she was such a negligent hostess - not.

Neville turned his head and winked at her.

On a whim, Daphne leaned towards him and kissed his cheek. 'Thank you, Nev.'

He put his arm around her and gave her a brief hug. 'Anything for my favourite cousin.'

'Oy, hands off my wife, Longbottom, only I get to paw that merchandise,' Harry called across the table, laughter in his eyes.

Neville threw up his arms in mock surrender, and everyone broke out into laughter.

Except the Weaselette. Her eyes shot brown daggers at Daphne across the table.

Did the tart really think that blatant display of anger would impress her? She'd survived seven years in the Slytherin dungeons, and another six years of politicking at Harry's side ever since he had ascended to the Wizengamot; she was used to deal with deadlier enemies than the Weaselette.

She returned the death stare with the sweetest fake smile in her repertoire. The Weaselette was the first to avert her eyes. Hah, take that, bitch!

Soon after that, dinner came to an end, and the music began to play.

As it was custom, the first two dances of the evening were reserved for the dinner partners. Daphne danced with Neville and Kingsley, as she'd done many times before on similar occasions.

The orchestra intonated a slower piece. Traditionally, the third dance was for the couples. Daphne smiled and looked out for her husband. Harry had become a good dancer, and she loved dancing with him. She finally discovered his black mop of hair among the couples on the dance floor, and the smile froze on her face.

He was dancing with the Weaselette.

Daphne's heart turned into a ball of ice and plummeted into the deepest pit of her stomach. How could he? Didn't he notice the curious looks he and the Weaselette got because of their breach of unwritten Pureblood ball etiquette? Didn't he notice the wagging tongues of the couples around them? He might as well have put an announcement into _The Daily Prophet _that he intended to begin an affair with the Weaselette, because that would be the rumour that would spread through magical Britain like wildfire before the night was over.

Years of Pureblood breeding kicked in without conscious effort. She drew in a deep breath to center herself, and schooled her face into a mask of polite indifference. She had to keep her dignity; she wouldn't let anyone know how hurt she was.

She cast a surreptitious look at Harry and the Weaselette. At least they kept the socially acceptable distance between them, though it was obvious that the tart tried to snuggle up to Harry as close as possible. Daphne's hands curled into fists at her side, and she dug her nails into the palms of her hands to keep herself from screaming.

'I believe this is my dance,' a silky voice said. A hand on the small of her back propelled her onto the dancefloor, and the next second she was drawn into a dance.

Her head jerked up, and she looked into the dark eyes of her former dorm-mate. He'd danced the second dance with the Weaselette, and all of a sudden she knew that he had helped the tart to her dance with Harry. Harry had been tutored in Pureblood ballroom etiquette by Mother: he'd never do anything to hurt and humiliate his wife in public, that just wasn't him. Still, had the Weaselette forced him to dance with her the way the tart's lover just had done with her, he would have had to comply to avoid a scene.

'No, it is not,' she said, and gave him an icy glare. 'And you are well aware of that, aren't you? After all, you just helped your lover to hit on my husband. I had no idea you've become a procurer after Hogwarts who helps his pros to get their next suitor. Though, I'm afraid she won't be successful this time.'

His dark, handsome face gave an almost undetectable twitch at her insult. Hadn't she known him so well from their school days, she would have missed it. Hah, she'd got to him! She raised her chin and narrowed her eyes at him.

He spun her around, out of earshot of the couple dancing next to them. 'Oh, Ginny _always _gets what she wants.' His voice still was as soft as Acrumantula silk, his eyes, however, as cold as the South Pole, signalled danger.

Daphne's stomach hardened, and the hair on her arms and on the nape of her neck lifted. Had that been a threat? The reputation of his family lent credence to that assumption.

His lips quirked into a smile that didn't reach his eyes: a shark's smile that mocked her and put her into her place.

Heat flushed through her body. Her nostrils flared. How dare he? She was the daughter and heiress of Cyrus Greengrass, and the wife of the Chosen One. Both men had made stronger wizards than him quiver in their shoes. She wouldn't allow this … this pocket-mafioso to intimidate her.

She tilted her head back and looked at him down the back of her nose. 'There's a first time for everything.'

His grip around her hand tightened, became painful, and she bit the inside of her cheeks not to flinch or utter a sound of pain.

'Ginny plays to win. Obstacles are a challenge to her, not to mention that most obstacles are … disposable.'

Her knees got weak, and only her strict upbringing prevented her from stumbling. Tiny beads of sweat pooled on her upper lip. Had he just threatened to kill her?

The music came to an end. He stepped back and raised her hand to his mouth in the formal gesture of a polite thanks. 'It would be a shame about a beautiful woman like you, wouldn't it?' He let go of her hand, turned around, and slipped through the couples on the dancefloor like an eel.

She stared after him; her heart raced, and she trembled all over her body.

'Daphne? Are you alright?'

Ron's arm slid around her waist, and she leaned against him, thankful for the support he offered.

The couples around them left the dancefloor, and many curious glances were cast her way.

She straightened; it wouldn't do to give the rumour mills more fodder.

'Yes, or at least I'll be in another minute. I just had a rather surreal conversation.'

Ron's mouth became grim. 'I imagine,' he said. His eyes searched the dancefloor.

She knew for whom he was looking, she'd begun searching for them the moment the music had ended.

There they were, on the other side of the dancefloor. Harry had offered his arm to the Weaselette, as it was custom, and she clung to his side while he was talking to Katie and Oliver Wood. Even from across the dancefloor it was obvious that the damned woman was tugging on his arm and urging him to end the conversation.

There was no doubt about the final destination the Weaselette had on her mind, either: from the arcades at the other side of the dancefloor French doors led into an enchanted garden with delightful paths and grottos, made for couples to lose themselves in them.

Daphne's eyes stung. She and Harry had made liberal use of these paths when they attended festivities at the _Silver Phoenix Resort _in the past years; she had very fond memories of one hidden grotto in particular. Why did he give in to the demands of the Weaselette? They'd been through so much together; even though he didn't love her, he owed her some respect because of that.

Heat shot in her face. She raised her chin and clenched her fists. He'd find out what she thought of his outrageous behaviour the moment she got him alone. And the Weaselette better made sure not to be caught alone by her. Right now, she'd love to put her hands around the bitch's creamy neck and squeeze until the life left her eyes.

The music began to play once again. She cast another look at the couple across the dancefloor. She'd love to confront them here and now, for once she was mad enough at them not to care they were still in public. However, the repercussions could be severe … She bit her lips; her primal feelings of betrayal and anger at war with her upbringing.

The decision was taken out of her hands. Neville snug up behind the Weaselette, slung his arms around her, and spun her onto the dancefloor. She let out a small shriek that was drowned out by the music and the talk and laughter of the ball guests, and tried to resist his pull, but he was stronger and swept her into an exuberant twirl while her eyes shot daggers at him.

Ron sniggered. 'Good boy, Neville.' He pulled her into a small hug and looked down at her. 'I never would've thought I had to say this, Daphne, but I'm ashamed of the behaviour of my sister. Please, accept my apologies on behalf of the Weasley family.'

She raised on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss on his cheek. 'Thank you, Ron. It's alright.'

'No, it isn't. My best mate is an idiot, and I'm going to tell him that when I next see him.' His ear lobes were an alarming shade of red.

She put a hand on his arm. 'That's sweet of you, Ron, but please don't. Harry and I will sort this out between us.'

Ron huffed at that. 'Well, if you say so. Anything for you, Daph.' He pulled his arm from her waist and offered it to her. 'Come on, let's find Hermione and the rest of the gang. She told me to meet her at the bar before she sent me over to help you.'

In spite of everything, Daphne had to smile. That was so typical Hermione: she was fiercely loyal to her friends.

On Ron's arm she ambled over to the bar. As soon as they reached the spot where their friends stood around two high bar tables, Hermione, Fleur and Lisa pulled her in a short group hug.

Comforted by the support of her friends, she gave them a tremulous smile.

Bill pressed a glass of elven champagne into her hand. 'Here, you look as if you need it.' His ear lobes were as red as Ron's, and he had his mouth set in a taut line. 'Just let me get my hands on my little sister, and -'

She never found out what he was going to say. Strong arms wrapped around her from behind, and the scent of a familiar cologne, mixed with leather and broomwax, reached her nostrils.

'I'm so very sorry, darling,' Harry whispered into her ear.

She turned her head around to look into his face. His eyes were clouded, like they'd been on that Christmas Day when she'd found him at the edge of the grove behind _The Burrow _after his talk to the Weaselette. Like on that fateful day, tingles went through her body where he touched her. This time, however, a flood of warmth followed that took her breath away and quenched her anger before it had time to rise.

He left her no time to dwell on that unexpected feeling, closed the gap between them and kissed her. It was a hard kiss, a possessive kiss. Was it reassurance for her? Or was that kiss meant for himself, a reminder where he belonged to?

He raised his head and gave her a miserable look. 'Walk with me in the garden?'

She nodded, and he took the glass out of her hand, put it onto the next bar table, and put his arm around her waist to lead her into the direction of the French doors to the garden. The concerned looks of their friends followed them.

They had not even walked half the distance to the French doors when the movement of something red over gold caught Daphne's attention. She suppressed a groan. The Weaselette was, once again, obviously on her way to attempt to intercept Harry and her, if her determined look into their direction was anything to go by.

The pressure of Harry's arm around her waist became more pronounced, as if he wanted to put as much distance as possible between them and the Weaselette. The wall of ball guests closed and obscured the woman from their sight, and vice versa. Harry let out a deep breath.

They reached the French doors. Harry held one door open for her. Dusk was falling, and all over the garden Fairy Lights lit up and added to the romantic feel of the scenery. Harry left her no time to admire the beautiful sight. As soon as they were both outside, he grabbed her hand. 'Let's hurry.'

He pulled her with him, behind a high hedgerow of wild roses that obscured them from the ballroom, and down the path that led to the grotto they had inspected thoroughly in previous years.

Her high heels made it impossible to keep up with him. 'Slow down, Harry, or I'll twist my ankle!'

He stopped in his tracks, a mischievous glint in his eye. 'We can't have that, can we?' The next moment he swept her on his arms and carried her down the path.

'Harry!' She threw her arms around his neck to steady herself. A snort escaped her, in spite of her irritation about his behaviour on the dancefloor. 'You're such a prat sometimes.'

They had reached the entrance to the familiar grotto. He looked down at her, an unfathomable expression in his eyes. 'Yeah, but I'm your prat, never forget that.' He bent his head and kissed her hard.

Any thought of her former irritation flew right out of her head. Her heart hammered in her chest. What did he mean by that? When he finally raised his head, the world spun around her. Her tingling lips still parted, she looked into his fascinating eyes, the only steady thing in her world.

He carried her over the threshold and lowered her to her feet. His eyes became sober. 'We have to talk,' he said and took both of her hands in his.

'That we have.' She drew a deep breath to center herself. She couldn't allow her anger about the public humiliation get the better of her. Harry's behaviour made clear he felt as miserable about the incident as she did. Had it been another attempt of the Weaselette to manipulate them? Most likely.

'What was that all about, Harry? Why did you have to humiliate me in front of almost everyone who counts in the wizarding world?'

His hands tightened around hers in an almost painful grip. 'Merlin, Daph, do you think I did that _on purpose_?' He let go of her hands and ran a nervous hand through his hair.

Daphne gave him a sharp look. That gesture told more than anything of his agitation. Harry had worked hard on his body language and trained himself not to fall back on the many, involuntary gestures that betray agitation or discomfort until it had become second nature to him to control himself.

She stepped closer and put her hand on his arm. 'What happened, Harry? Why did you act that way?'

He sat down on the inbuilt bench that led around the wall of the grotto and pulled her on his lap. His arms encircled her. Again, a wave of warmth flooded her system.

'I'd just finished my dance with Hermione. Ron came up to claim her, and I was looking for you. The music set in, and I still hadn't found you. Next thing I know is Ginny and her escort dancing by my side. Before I know what's going on, she lets go of him and throws her arms around my neck, stating for everyone around us to hear that this is her dance I promised to her.'

Daphne's stomach lurched. That was worse than she'd thought.

Harry huffed. 'I should have put an end to that then and there, and told her where to shove her dance. But … You know Molly, and Ginny is very much like her mother, and I didnt want her to cause a scene tonight, so I played along against my better judgement.'

He heaved a big sigh. 'Had I known she behaved like that, I wouldn't have come within twenty yards of her. I ran into her regularly whenever I was in the U.S.A.. She never made a move on me. We'd sometimes have dinner together, though not each time, exchange a few words about mutual friends, and then go our way. Tonight, however ... well, I never saw that coming. You can't imagine how relieved I was when Neville dragged her on the dancefloor and I could slip away without causing a scene. Skeeter was lurking in the background, so it's already bad enough as it is.'

Daphne gave him a long look. He was genuinely upset, she knew him well enough to know that. And yet, there were still some points he'd glossed over …

'Why did you never tell me you met her in New York?'

Harry's cheeks pinked, and he looked as adorable and sheepish as a five-year-old caught with his hand in the biscuit tin. Damn him, she wouldn't be able to keep up her stern demeanour much longer if he looked like that.

'It wasn't such a big deal. When I first met her, I wanted to tell you immediately, but then this or that happened, and I forgot about it until it was too late. Later, I didn't know how to bring it up, and I didn't want to worry you, either.'

'Harry, you idiot! Did it never occur to you that I'd be far easier to manipulate the less I knew? You, of all people, should know that. You should also know by now that you can talk to me about anything. Remember, only together we're strong.'

Should she tell him she knew about his meetings with the Weaselette because of the pictures the bitch had sent her each time afterwards? She took another look at her husband: his eyes were still dark with worry, and the taut lines around his mouth betrayed his anger about the Weaselette's actions.

No, she'd better keep her mouth shut about the manipulations of the Weaselette, at least for tonight. As angry as Harry was, he'd most likely start a fight with the bitch the next time he saw her. Well, that surely wouldn't cause her any sleepless nights, but at the ball with many prying eyes and Skeeter lurking in the background was the worst place for something like that.

Harry let out a deep sigh. 'I've messed up big time, haven't I?'

She rolled her eyes at him. 'Well, I'm not happy about the way you ditched me in favour of your ex-girlfriend. Even if you didn't mean to, that's how it looks to the public, and Merlin knows what Skeeter will make out of that incident. However, there's no need to make a mountain out of a molehill, either. If we act normally, people will forget about it soon enough.'

He took a deep breath and tilted her chin up with his hand. Emerald eyes met blue. 'So, we're good?'

As if she ever could resist him when he looked at her like that. She slid her arms around him, pulled him closer, and relaxed against his chest. 'Yes, we're good. Though, that doesn't mean that I won't make you grovel for some time.'

Harry chuckled. 'Is that so? Well then, I promise to take my punishment like a man. I trust you not to be too hard on me.'

'I thought something along the lines of a weekend somewhere far away from everything, only the two of us.'

'That sounds far more like a reward to me.' He exhaled and leaned his forehead against her own.

She ran her hand through the silky hair at the nape of his neck, and once again that wonderful warmth permeated her.

They sat like that a long time, until Harry raised his head. 'I'm afraid we have to go back to the ballroom.' He pushed a strand of hair out of her face.

She made a face to that, reluctant to give up on their quality time, and slid from his lap. He was right, though. By now, the rumour mill would be working extra shifts. Their disappearance from the ballroom would have led to all kinds of speculations. They had to go back, present an united front to the world, and show them this incident wasn't more than a small bump in the road of the perfect Potter marriage.

Arm in arm they ambled back to the ballroom through the darkness of the balmy spring night. By now, the tastefully illuminated garden was frequented by a lot of couples who wanted to escape the hot and stifling air of the ballroom, or just enjoy a romantic walk, and a lot of curious glances were cast their way. She sighed and snuggled closer to her husband, smiling contentedly as Harry drew her closer. It would probably be much worse as soon as they were back in the ballroom.

Harry opened the door to the ballroom for her, his other arm still around her waist. He bent down to her. 'I am relying on you acting as my bodyguard for the rest of the night and not leaving my side.'

She swirled her head around; his emerald eyes gave her a conspiratorial wink, and laughter bubbled up in her.

They'd moved no more than a couple of feet into the ballroom, when Daphne caught a glimpse of a woman in a striking golden ball gown making her way to them. The Weaselette, again. She came to a halt in front of them. The ball guests around them stopped talking mid-sentence; all eyes were on the triangle marked by Harry, the Weaselette, and her.

Her stomach lurched once again. She suppressed a groan. This was just great. She hadn't been feeling well all day long, the ball had been trying so far, to say the least: the last thing she needed was the Waselette and her stupid games drawing the attention of the insatiable curious magical population on them.

The Weaselette gave her a scorching look, then turned her eyes on Harry. The next second she was all smiling sweetness. It was enough to make Daphne want to gag. Had Harry caught that look? Hopefully.

'Can we talk, Harry?'

Harry's body went tense. Daphne tightened her hold around him, and a wave of warmth surged through her body.

'Not tonight,' Harry said, his voice clipped. She didn't need to look into his face to know that he'd put on his inscrutable public mask.

The Weaselette opened her mouth as if to contradict.

Harry raised his free hand, his other arm still secure around Daphne's waist. 'Leave it alone, Ginny. As I see it, you already have caused enough trouble tonight, claiming a dance that wasn't yours in the first place.' With that, he pushed her forward, past the Weaselette, towards the bar where their friends were waiting and looking at the encounter with various degrees of worry and concern on their faces.

Murmurs and whispers flared up all around them. Daphne held herself upright and schooled her face into a bland mask. She hated to be made the object of gossip. Didn't that damned woman know this was even worse for Harry? She'd been his girlfriend, for Morgana's sake, she had to know how much he hated this.

Another scorching look hit her as she passed the Weaselette, secure in Harry's arm.

'You're going to pay for that,' the bitch murmured, low enough for no-one but her to hear.

Daphne's stomach turned into a ball of ice at the hate-filled words, and her breath hitched. There was no doubt the bitch meant business.

She let out a breath when they reached the calm haven of their friends. Thanks Morgana, they acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. They all knew Harry and her well enough to know how much they hated public attention, and would do anything to protect them from that.

Bill handed her a fresh glass of elven champagne. She pretended to sip it; the smell of the alcohol still made her stomach squirm. No surprise there; what had been supposed to be a night of fun with their friends had been nothing but a nightmare up till now. She pushed the glass of champagne aside when Bill wasn't looking and helped herself to a glass of sparkling water.

Of course, Harry noticed. He hadn't taken his arm away from her, and now pulled her closer. 'Are you still feeling nauseous? Shall we call it a day and return home?' he whispered in her ear.

His offer was tempting. However, it was still too soon after their encounter with the Weaselette. Taking their leave now would cause another round of gossip she wanted to avoid. She turned her head and gave him a kiss on the cheek. 'Don't worry, honey, I'm alright.'

She was anything but that, however, Harry needn't to know everything. On the plus side Ron, Morgana bless him, drew Harry into another Auror-related conversation.

'You'll probably won't like it, mate, but today I got the news that Lucius Malfoy is going to be released from Azkaban within the next few weeks. He has served each single day of his ten years.'

Harry shrugged, picked up a glass of champagne from a tablet an elf offered to him, and took a sip. 'Well, that can't be helped, can it.'

Ron frowned. 'I wish you'd consider personal security. I have a bad feeling about this.'

'Ron, you've had a bad feeling for the last five years,' Harry said with a grin. He took another sip of champagne. 'You know Daphne's and my thoughts on your suspicion against Malfoy.'

Bill and Justin, who were listening into the conversation, chuckled.

Ron sighed, rolled his eyes, but knew when it was time to change the topic. Within the next minute, the four young men were deep into a discussion of the last Quidditch game between Puddlemere United and the Tutshill Tornados.

The night went on. Their group altered between the dancefloor and taking refreshments at the bar. The Weaselette kept her distance, thank Morgana for small blessings. Or maybe she had already left, Daphne hadn't seen her for quite some time, and she relaxed and began to enjoy the ball. The fact that Harry never left her side had a lot to do with that.

Quite a while after midnight the four young witches decided it was about time to powder their noses. Being young women and no different to other women, they of course made the trek to the powder room together.

Daphne was in the lead. She put her hand on the handle of the door, when the door was pushed open from inside.

'Oh, sorry,' she said, and stepped back to let two women out of the room.

Her eyes fell on red hair and a striking golden dress, and her stomach lurched. The Weaselette, Morgana damn her bad luck.

The moment the woman recognised her, her polite expression turned into a mask of hate. 'You!' she hissed.

Behind Daphne, Fleur, Hermione and Lisa gasped.

Molly Weasley, one step behind her daughter, blanched. She took the Weaselette by her elbow and tried to pull her away, but the woman didn't budge.

Daphne drew a deep breath to center herself, and schooled her face into a bland mask.

Not a moment too soon; the Weaselette stepped closer to Daphne until she invaded her personal space. 'I warned you to stay away from what isn't yours, Greengrass.'

Daphne rolled her eyes, she didn't even bother to hide that from the Weaselette. 'You're delusional, Weasley. You are and never were in the position to keep me away from _my husband. _Stop your pathetic act and get real. Harry hasn't been yours anymore since the day he ended it with you. Do you really think your bitching back at _The Burrow _impressed me at all?'

Should she tell the Weaselette what had happened between Harry and her after their encounter in the kitchen of _The Burrow_? No, that was too personal, she wouldn't sully one of the happiest moments of her life by sharing it with the bitch.

However, this had gone on for too long. It was about time to put the bitch into her place.

She grabbed the Weaselette by the arms; her long fingernails dug deep into the soft flesh of her upper arms. The Weaselette squirmed and let out a soft cry of pain, but she didn't let go. Merlin may help her that she wouldn't drag her fingernails through the bitch's face next. Her mouth curved into a smirk at the discomfort of the woman.

Molly Weasley made a step forward to help her daughter, but Daphne stopped her right in her tracks with a single look.

She leaned forward, until she was nose to nose with the Weaselette. 'Listen to me, you piece of trash, and listen good: keep your hands off my husband, or Merlin be my witness, it'll be the last thing you do.'

She shoved the Weaselette back, into her mother, not caring for the deep scratches that marred her upper arms, or the look of horror on her face, turned around, and walked away.

_t.b.c._


	3. Chapter 3

_ **The Silver Phoenix Resort, May 8th 2008** _

Who would've thought the celebration of the blackest day in Pureblood history could be this entertaining? He chuckled to himself, leaned back in his chair and listened with half an ear to his date and her friends gossip about how Potter had danced with his former girlfriend and left his wife standing there on display for the vultures to pick over. He had to agree, it had been amusing.

He hadn't had any desire to attend to the festivities that marked the tenth anniversary of Father's death. However, when the opportunity had presented itself in form of Joane, one of the secretaries at Crystal Fairy's who was a Veteran of the Battle of Hogwarts, he hadn't turned it down. She had just broken up with her boyfriend and was in dire need of a date for the ball. It didn't matter that she'd helped suppressing their valiant cause.

He had learned to think about the big picture, and he'd use every chance he got to get near to the Potters and find out more about their lives. After all, you'd never knew when the opportunity for the next attack would present itself, even though those two were worse than the proverbial cat with the nine lives. So far, they'd managed to escape his death traps again and again.

Joane touched his arm with her hand. 'They're coming back.'

He turned his head and looked toward the doors that led into the garden.

Potter opened the door for the whore, one arm around her waist. He bent down and said something into her ear, which made her spin around her head, gape at him, and burst out laughing.

'Now, that's a surprise,' Joane said. 'The way he ditched her in favour for his ex during the couples dance, I would've expected her to be still mad at him.'

'I told you it was a misunderstanding,' her friend said across the table. 'Harry isn't like that.'

He took a sip of his champagne. 'You seem to know him well,' he said, and put the glass back on the table.

The blonde girl, Katie Something, shrugged to that. 'I doubt anyone beside his closest friends and family really know him.'

Her husband, a stocky, muscular man with ash-blonde, spiked hair, nodded to that. 'Harry's a very private person. I was his Quidditch captain for three years. I doubt we ever shared a private word.'

His wife laughed to that. 'That's because you had a one-track mind when it came to Quidditch while you were at school, sweetheart. I can't remember you ever talking about anything but Quidditch back then.' She leaned towards him and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Everyone at their table laughed to that.

He joined the laughter, though his hands itched to slap the blonde witch for her interference.

The dark-haired girl next to the husband of the blonde sobered. 'I can't see Harry hurting and humiliating his wife on purpose, that just isn't in him, can you, Katie?'

Katie startled at that and shook her head. 'You're right, Alicia, out of all of us on those teams, I was probably the closest to him, and I know he'd never do something to deliberately hurt someone else. It's strange.'

She gave a frown before continuing her musings 'I was his dorm-mate for six years, and played on the house team with him almost my entire time at Hogwarts. He's always been decent and polite towards the girls, that's something you can't say of all blokes in Gryffindor. Ginny on the other hand -.' Katie interrupted herself and made a face.

His mouth became dry. That was what he was looking for, inside information on Harry Potter and the people who were important to him. Know thy enemy, know their strengths and their weaknesses, and your next strike will be all the more deadly.

He quirked an eyebrow at Katie. 'Ginny Weasley, the international Quidditch star?'

'Yeah, though that surely wasn't written in the stars for her. She's -.' She interrupted herself once again and stared at the Potters. 'To what are you up to now, Ginny?'

He turned into the direction of her stare. A red-headed woman had planted herself in front of the Potters and stared them down. From his position, he couldn't see the faces of Britain's glamour couple. Their posture, however, indicated that they were presenting a united front to the world: they stood even closer than before, arms around each other.

The expression of the redhead morphed into a fake sweet smile, and she said something. It was a pity their table was too far away to understand her. Whatever it was, it didn't seem to impress the Potters: the smile faded from the face of the woman until she openly glared.

The Potters brushed past her without another glance. The woman moved as if she was going to follow them. However, a young, Italian looking man stepped in and held her back. They had a short, slightly heated conversation - at least heated on the side of the girl - until her shoulders sagged, and she allowed him to lead her away.

'Now, that was interesting,' Alicia said and drained her glass.

He turned around and motioned a nearby house elf to bring them more champagne. The alcohol most likely would loosen her tongue, and he would be able to gain more useful information.

'What do you mean by that?' he asked, and handed her a fresh glass from the tablet the house elf presented to him.

She thanked him with a silent toast, sipped, and said, 'Ginny was Harry's girlfriend during his sixth year, at least that's what I've been told. Katie, you know more about that.'

The blonde shrugged her shoulders. 'Yeah, they got together after the last Quidditch match of the year. They didn't last long, two or three weeks, perhaps. I have no idea why they broke up; I was busy with my N.E.W.T.s and didn't pay much attention to the house-gossip at that time. They did get back together for a short time after the Battle of Hogwarts, but that obviously didn't last long, either. Harry married Daphne Greengrass the summer after the war.'

'It was an old family arrangement. At least that's what was in the newspapers after their marriage,' the dark haired girl added. 'There was a lot of speculation, wondering if Harry and Ginny would continue their relationship after his marriage, but there's never been the slightest hint of Harry not being completely faithful to his wife. You just have to look at them; the way they behave towards each other it's rather obvious they are deeply in love. Besides that, Ginny left for the U.S.A. immediately after Harry's wedding, and she hasn't exactly lived like a nun since then.'

'By the way the redhead acted tonight you'd think she's still after him,' he said.

Katie and Alicia exchanged a look.

'She's always wanted The-Boy-Who-Lived. Wasn't she a co-founder of his fan club?' Alicia asked.

Katie made a face. 'Don't remind me of that. Harry hated it. For the longest time she wasn't able to do anything but blush and squeak whenever he was near.'

The two witches broke out into laughter.

He tuned them out while he sipped his champagne. An ex-girlfriend who'd had an unhealthy obsession with Potter from her childhood, and had been forced to give up on her hero because he had been contracted into an arranged marriage - he wouldn't be his father's son if he didn't use that for his own ends. It was obvious that the Weasley girl still wasn't over her obsession with the Chosen One.

For the rest of the night he alternated between watching the Potters and the redhead. The Potters were as boring as always: they stuck to their own small circle of friends, hardly drank anything - the whore even stuck to sparkling water all night long - and they were the usual, sickeningly sweet couple. After his blunder at the beginning of the ball Potter never left the side of the whore and played the devoted husband to perfection. Though, Alicia was right, the upstart really seemed to care for his whore, and his feelings were returned. You only had to look at the two to see that; it was the source of neverending gossip and sighs among the women at Crystal Fairy's, and it surely was enough to make a grown man want to gag.

Shortly after midnight the women of Potter's small circle of friends made the requisite collective trek to the powder room. He'd never understand why women always had to go in packs. However, it would be the only opportunity for Weasley to have a go at the whore without Potter watching her like a hawk, so it was most likely she'd make her move now.

He got up from the table with a small excuse to his date, and followed the women to the restrooms.

Luck was with him: the moment the whore opened the door to the restroom, Weasley came out. Her face at once morphed into a mask of hate.

'You!' she spat.

He made a small move towards the women: the whore was his to kill, he wouldn't allow Weasley to interfere with that.

A plump woman with greyish-red hair and the same chocolate brown eyes as Weasley held her back. Her mother? Well, that was beside the point right now, more interesting was the outcome of the little encounter.

He had to give it to the whore: she was a real lady. Nothing in her bland face betrayed the less than charitable feelings she had to have for the woman who was blatantly hunting for her husband. Weasley, on the other hand … Well, she might be a Pureblood, but she didn't have the breeding of one.

Weasley stepped closer to the whore. 'I warned you to stay away from what isn't yours, Greengrass.'

He almost laughed out loud. How delusional was the woman? She might have been Potter's girlfriend, but that had been ten long years ago. She was deluding herself if she thought she still meant something to him.

The whore seemed to agree. She rolled her eyes. 'You're delusional, Weasley. You aren't and never were in the position to keep me away from _my husband. _Stop your pathetic little act and get real. Harry hasn't been yours since the day he ended it with you. Do you really think your bitching back at _The Burrow _impressed me at all?.'

The look of shock on Weasley's face was almost comical to watch. Who would've thought the whore had claws and used them? It became even better.

The whore grabbed Weasley by the arms; her long fingernails dug deep into the soft flesh of Weasley' upper arms. The woman squirmed and let out a soft cry of pain, but the whore didn't let go.

Weasley's mother made a step forward to help her daughter, but the whore stopped her right in her tracks with a single look that sent a shiver down his spine. Merlin, that woman was a force to reckon with when her anger was provoked.

The whore leaned forward, until she was nose to nose with Weasley. 'Listen to me, you piece of trash, and listen good: keep your hands off my husband, or Merlin be my witness, it'll be the last thing you do.'

She shoved Weasley back, into her mother, not caring for the deep scratches that marred the other woman's upper arms, or the look of horror on her face, turned around, and walked away.

Her friends followed her. That was interesting, Granger and the blonde half-breed were Weasley's sisters-in-law, but they seemed to care more about the feelings of the whore.

Weasley's mother repaired the damage to her daughter's arm, and they made their way back into the ballroom, albeit in a much slower pace, their heads stuck together.

He turned around and walked back to his party, deep in thought. It seemed Weasley had only a small base of support; that wasn't surprising after all the years she had spent in the U.S.A.. She'd probably be thankful for every new friend she made.

A smile spread across his handsome face. Ms Weasley didn't know it yet, but she was about to make a new friend. After all, the enemy of my enemy is my friend, or so the saying went.

_t.b.c._


	4. Chapter 4

_ **The Rectory, May 9th, 2008** _

Sunlight was streaming through a slit between the thick curtains in front of their bedroom window when Daphne woke up the next morning. Still in the last vestiges of sleep, she reached out with her arm to Harry's side of the bed, groping around blindly, only to find it empty.

She scrunched up her nose. Why did he have to be such an early riser? She hated waking up alone.

She pushed the duvet away, swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and sat up. All at once, dizziness overcame her. She grunted and buried her face in the palms of her hands until the unpleasant feeling had subsided. Not again! What, by Morgana's flat chest, was wrong with her?

She raised with slow and tentative movements, hoping that the dizziness wouldn't return, and made it through her morning routine without another spell. With a relieved sigh, she closed the door to their bedroom and walked down to the breakfast room.

They had never returned to Grimmauld Place after the funeral of her parents and sister. What was meant to be a temporarily arrangement to help her overcome her loss had become permanent before she even realised it. About a month after the funeral Harry had suggested to give the house a makeover and make it their permanent residence.

If she hadn't already been madly in love with him she'd have fallen for him then: he knew how much her family had meant to her; by permanently moving into her family home, it kept fresh the strongest link she still had to them. Little things would trigger happy memories of her family, like whispered conversations with Tori in the gardens or lessons with her father in his study; as a bonus she was close to their graves and could visit whenever she needed to.

She walked into the spacious kitchen. This room had changed the most since they'd moved in. Raised in Pureblood tradition, Mother had never been a cook and had left that field to the elves. Thus the kitchen had always been a rather overlooked and old-fashioned part of the house. Harry had changed that: he had insisted on the newest Muggle equipment, and paid the Goblins to make it work with magic. Matty and her daughter had been distrustful of the modern equipment at first, but soon learned to love it. They still were in charge of the kitchen most of the time, albeit Harry took over their domain whenever he felt like it.

Today - it appeared - was one of those times. He stood at the huge stove and prepared a full English breakfast, one of her favourite dishes. However, her stomach gave an uncomfortable squirm when the smell of fried food reached her nostrils.

Harry looked up and smiled at her. 'Good morning, sleepyhead.' He turned off the heat under the skillet, walked towards her and took her in his arms.

Daphne snuggled against him. 'Morning, honey.'

He let go of her, turned her, and ushered her in the direction of the breakfast room with a soft pat on her behind. 'Your breakfast will be ready in another minute, my lady.'

She laughed, looking back at him over her shoulder. 'You're really a well trained husband. I think I'll keep you.' With a small wave at him, she walked into the adjoining breakfast room and sat down at her usual place.

They'd only made a few changes to this room: the cushions on the rattan furniture had needed a replacement, and she'd taken the opportunity to change the main colour scheme of the room from the soft tan Mother had preferred to a bold turquoise. Mother's prized orchids, however, still adorned the room, and Harry had added to the collection.

A string of plates, bowls, cups, cutlery and a steaming teapot soared through the opening to the kitchen, descended on the table in front of her in a graceful arch, and arranged itself into a perfectly set breakfast table.

Harry followed seconds later. He sat down beside her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. 'Your breakfast, Mrs Potter. Tuck in.' He grabbed for his cutlery and cut into his bangers.

Daphne took her cutlery in her hands, though much slower than Harry, and looked down on her plate. He'd made a traditional fry-up, just as she liked it. Everything was there, including the black pudding, and fried to perfection. She stared at the slices of black pudding, next to the fried mushrooms. Never had a breakfast looked less appealing to her.

Another whiff of fried food reached her nose. That was too much. Her stomach turned, and she sprang to her feet and bolted for the bathroom next to the family room. She reached it just in time, grabbed for the toilet bowl as if it was an anchor, and retched.

It was over as sudden as it had begun. She stemmed herself off the floor and turned to the sink to splash cold water in her sweaty face and rinse her mouth.

'Daphne?' Harry appeared at the open door, a frown on his face and his eyebrows creased. 'Aren't you feeling well?'

She cast a Breath Refreshing Charm on herself and turned towards him. 'I'm fine; don't worry, honey. All that champagne last night probably didn't agree with me.' She gave him a broad smile, though her stomach still rolled, ready to send her back heaving the next second.

'You don't look like it,' Harry said. He stepped towards her, took her chin in his hand, and gave her a scrutinising look. 'You're rather green in the face; that's a colour that doesn't suit you at all, darling, so don't you "I'm fine" me!' He let go of her face and pulled her into a hug. 'Please, don't fob me off, Daphne: you didn't drink any champagne last night, so that doesn't work, either. Out with it, what's wrong with you?' He leaned back and scrutinised her face, his eyes dark with worry.

She shrugged her shoulders and cuddled against him. 'I have no idea. Maybe I'm coming down with something. I've been out of sorts for a couple of days, and I'm always tired.' As if on cue, a huge yawn escaped her.

Harry put his arm around her waist and led her into the family room. 'Alright, it's nap time for you, then.' He helped her lay down on the sofa and covered her with the colourful afghan Grandmother Greengrass had crocheted some fifty years ago. 'Promise me to see a healer on Monday.'

She smiled up at him, already half asleep. 'Yes, but only because I want you to stop pestering me about it.'

'Smart girl.' He bent down and gave her a kiss on the forehead. The next second she was fast asleep.

* * *

On Harry's insistence, she spent most of the weekend resting on the sofa in the family room.

'Like a Victorian lady,' she said with a grimace.

He didn't give in. 'You're still pale and your appetite hasn't returned. If you're a good girl, I'm taking you for a stroll through the park in the afternoon. If you insist on behaving like a brat, however, I won't mind practising my Sticking Charms on you.' His wand slipped in his hand, and he twirled it between his fingers while he gave her his most innocent smile.

Daphne grumbled, but relented. In truth she was just too tired to argue with him.

She still didn't feel much better on Monday morning, although she somehow managed to hide that from Harry.

Their week started with a meeting with the head of Crystal Fairy's Department of Magical Public Relations and Advertisement and his deputy about the new advertising campaign for the magical world. The Muggle part of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products traditionally contracted female film stars and supermodels for their different advertising campaigns, a tradition grandfather Greengrass and Harry's grandfather Fleamont Potter had started after the defeat of Grindelwald.

The director had suggested to launch a similar campaign in the magical world, instead on solely relying on praising the effects of their products. Something like that had never been done before in the magical world, so it was bound to attract attention. Harry had given the director free hand in choosing the star, and today he was expected to report about his progress.

Daphne was the last to enter the conference room and slipped into her usual seat beside Harry. One look at Director McLean and his deputy, Rhys Patterson, told her they had good news: they could barely contain their smiles and fidgeted with the scrolls of parchment in front of them.

Harry smiled at the two men across the table. 'Alright, what do you have for us, gentlemen?'

A broad smile appeared on Director McLean's face. 'Well, you wanted a superstar for the next campaign, Mr Potter, and we found one, even within the designed budget.' He paused, obviously to raise the suspense.

Daphne rolled her eyes. She wasn't in the mood for male ego games today; all she wanted was getting out of here as soon as possible and hide in her office for the rest of the day so that no-one, least of all Harry, would realise how out of sorts she was.

Harry, on the other hand, seemed inclined to play along. The polite smile still on his face, he cocked an inquiring eyebrow at Director McLean. 'Who is that mysterious superstar?'

The smile on McLean's face became even broader, if that was possible.

'Ginny Weasley.'

Daphne's insides turned cold; she gasped, her hand flying to her chest. That couldn't be true, not the Weaselette again.

Director McLean regarded her with a brief look, his eyebrows drawn together. 'Are you alright, Mrs Potter?'

Patterson had tilted his head to the side and also looked at her, curiosity in his eyes.

She had to get a grip on herself; there was no way both men hadn't seen the headlines of the _Sunday Prophet. _Just as she had feared, Harry's dance with the bitch hadn't escaped Skeeter. Even worse, Skeeter had a long memory and had warmed up the long forgotten story about their surprise marriage, Harry's former relationship with the Weaselette, and her subsequent flight to the U.S.A., and of course came to the conclusion that Harry and the Weaselette were going to pick up where they'd left ten years ago.

Harry put his hand on her knee under the cover of the table and gave her a small squeeze.

Warmth permeated her, the coldness subsided, and her racing heartbeat returned to normal. She cast him a short side glance.

He sat back on his chair, as if recoiling from Director McLean and the news he brought, and had covered his mouth and chin with his other hand. Impossible to gauge his thoughts about contracting the Weaselette right now.

She took a deep breath, swallowed the vile taste of bile in her mouth, and smiled at the two men opposite of her.

'I'm fine, thanks. I admit I'm a trifle surprised about your news. That's surely a big coup for Crystal Fairy Beauty Products.'

Director McLean puffed out his chest. 'Well, Ms Weasley's agent was a tough negotiating partner. However, we came to a satisfying agreement for both sides.'

Harry lowered his hand from his face. 'I reserve my judgement if that deal is satisfying for our company until I've heard the details, Director McLean,' he said in a dry undertone.

The triumphant smirk vanished from McLean's face.

That was something Father would have said. Had Harry an idea how much he adhered to Father's style of management? It was endearing, at least to her, and a sign of how much he had valued Father as his mentor, even though he'd deny it if she ever told him. Daphne covered her amusement with a small cough.

Harry's hand, still on her knee, gave her another squeeze; he shot her a small smile and pulled his hand away.

'Well, director?'

McLean motioned with his hand to his deputy. 'Mr Patterson will fill you in about the details.'

Patterson straightened in his seat, cleared his throat and unrolled a scroll of parchment in front of him. 'Ms Weasley agreed to become the face for our new, world wide advertising campaign. Since she is probably the most high profile female Quidditch player in the world at the moment and famous all around the world because of that, we couldn't think of someone more suitable for that campaign.'

Harry nodded his consent, his face a bland mask.

Daphne grabbed for the quill in front of her and clenched her hand around it. How did he really feel about the deal with the Weaselette? It was impossible to tell, he had himself in perfect control. The business woman in her agreed that the deal was advantageous for their company; Ginny Weasley was just the kind of woman they'd had in their mind when they had planned the campaign: a young, beautiful, modern professional witch, preferably famous world wide. There were only very few witches who fit the bill. Couldn't McLean have picked one of those other witches?

The professional fee McLean had negotiated also was within the limits they had agreed on, so she had no reason to protest the contract on these grounds.

Patterson came to an end about the financial details of the contract. He and McLean were right, it _was _advantageous for the company, even with the exceptional professional fee the Weaselette got out of it, and she'd be a fool to raise any objections against it. Furthermore, that would add fuel to the kind of gossip she wanted to avoid. And yet ...

Patterson proceeded with the details of the campaign. He gave Daphne a small nod. 'You said to orient this campaign on the advertising campaigns Crystal Fairy launches in the Muggle world. Whenever a new star is contracted, they are celebrated with a party at _The Rectory. _It's a tradition that has been introduced by the founders of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products,so Director McLean and I thought it appropriate to continue that tradition. After all, observing traditions is an integral part of the magical world. We've already prepared the invitations for a garden party on Saturday. Since you and Mr Potter rarely entertain magical folks at your home, we have no doubt the invitations will receive a huge interest.'

For the second time that day Daphne's insides turned to ice. The quill in her hand split into halves under her tightening grip.

'You must be kidding!'

Her head jerked around to Harry.

For the first time since Father had taken him under his tutelage, he had lost his countenance in a meeting. He gaped at McLean and Patterson, at a loss for words, and red spots burned on his cheekbones.

She reached out and covered his hand he had curled into a fist with hers. At once the tingles of his distress shot up her arm. She countered by trying to push calming feelings towards him.

After a long moment, Harry took a deep breath, his fist uncurled, and he interlaced his fingers with hers. He turned towards her, gave her a small smile, and then turned back to Director McLean and his deputy.

'No … Not only no, but hell no!' His voice was cold, and the glare he shot at both men made them recoil in their seats.

'I'm sure you read the _Sunday Prophet, _gentlemen, so you know about the nonsense one Rita Skeeter spouted this time. Of course, nothing about that is true, and I've already contacted our attorneys about that matter. However, the article upset my wife, and I'm not inclined to put her in such a situation once again.'

Warmth spilled towards her through their linked hands. A bout of happy giddiness overcame her. He wanted to protect her; how sweet was that? However, her sharp Slytherin mind already pondered the pros and cons on his intended course of action.

From the economical point of view, the contract with the Weaselette was a brilliant investition. Father had raised her to put the interests of the company always before her personal comfort, so there was no way she'd go against a deal that seemed to have only advantages for Crystal Fairy Beauty Products. Harry should know that, Father's mantra was ingrained in him as well; after all he didn't protest the contract with the Weaselette per se.

Everything in her baulked at the idea of having to throw a party for the Weaselette. However, technically the party wasn't for the girl, it was for the company. More gallingly was the fact that she would potentially give the Weaselette power over them if they treated her differently than the other celebrities they had under contract. Not to mention that the party would gain the attention they wanted with only little to no effort on their part: no doubt it would be the hottest topic in tabloid papers world wide, the kind of papers beauty conscious witches read.

The "apparent" love triangle between herself, Harry and the Weaselette Skeeter had described in her article would only add fuel to those interested in the party. She suppressed a snort. Skeeter probably didn't know it, but she had provided them, and subsequently their company, with significant free publicity that would raise attention world wide, at least if you thought about it the right way. Should she write a thank you letter to the woman?

Her mind made up, she shook that ridiculous thought away, breathed in deeply, straightened in her seat, and pushed a strand of hair out of her face.

Harry looked at her from under raised eyebrows.

She pressed his hand. 'Let's not made a hasty decision, Harry, only because you're irritated about the W … Ms Weasley's behaviour at the ball, and Skeeter's article. By now you should be used to that kind of dragon dung.'

'What's your point, Daph?'

She took another deep breath and cast a Privacy Ward around them. 'Let's be pragmatic about this, alright? We both know that we probably can't get someone better suited for the campaign than the Weaselette. With that in mind, there's no reason to treat her different to any other celebrity we have under contract.'

Harry's eyebrows rose up another notch, before he frowned, and gave the problem a few seconds of thought. 'No, I guess there isn't, is there,' he said at length and returned the pressure of her hand. 'It would make her stand out from the rest. There's no need for that, right?' He took a deep breath. 'Are you sure about this, darling? I'm afraid Ginny won't see it our way and will most likely try to cause more trouble at your expense.'

Heat shot into her cheeks, and she couldn't contain the broad smile that spread over her face. Harry understood her reasoning, even agreed with her, and yet tried to protect her. Oh, she wished the Weaselette could see them now. It would surely put a damper to her plans to get Harry into her clutches.

'I am sure. I trust you, Harry.'

An emotion passed across his face, so fast she couldn't decipher it, before he gave her hand another squeeze. 'Alright, in that case … Let's do it. Although for the record, I'm not happy about it.'

'Neither am I,' she said, and cancelled the privacy charms. She turned back to Director McLean and his deputy. 'Mr Potter and I agreed to host the garden party, so please, send out the invitations. As you said, even though it is on short notice, I doubt anyone will decline. All I need is the approved guest list. Our house elves and I will make the necessary preparations.'

Director McLean and Patterson both let out huge breaths. Patterson picked up another scroll of parchment from the stack in front of him and handed it to her. 'The guest list, Mrs Potter.'

Daphne unrolled the parchment, and only the hard training she had received from Miss Ogden as well as later from Father helped her not to grimace at its length. Their house elves would be delighted about the extra work, but she wasn't looking forward to plan a party for about two-hundred people within not even a week. She rolled up the parchment and got to her feet. 'I'd better start at once. There are only a little more than four days left to get everything ready.'

As soon as she closed the door of the conference room behind her, the stress of the meating caught up with Daphne. A wave of dizziness overcame her, and her stomach roiled. Thank Morgana there was a ladies restroom next to the conference room.

She rushed to the door of the restroom and barely made it into the next stall before her stomach turned and she retched for the second time within three days. A wave of heat welled up in her, and sweat broke out all over her body; it seemed as if she'd never stop heaving.

After a felt eternity the ordeal was over. Daphne straightened, supporting herself with her hands on the walls of the stall, and flushed. Would her wobbling legs carry her to the row of sinks? Just to be sure, she waited another minute and then walked to the sinks with small, careful steps. She rinsed her mouth, cast a Breath Refreshing Charm on herself and washed her face, before she untied her ponytail, conjured a brush and made herself presentable.

She looked in the mirror over the sink to make sure she'd obliterated all traces of her bout of sickness. Her face was pale, with dark smudges under the eyes. She made a face and cast an additional Glamour Charm to get rid of the problem. What by Morgana was wrong with her? She slipped her wand back into the holster on her wrist. Harry was right, she ought to see a healer.

But not this week. She had a party to prepare.

_t.b.c._


	5. Chapter 5

_ **The Rectory, May 16th, 2008** _

The day of the party arrived too quickly as far as Harry was concerned. He'd never been one to love to socialise; today's party, however, was even less appealing: he wasn't looking forward to having to play nice with Ginny. What, by Merlin soggy britches, had got into her? She had been his girlfriend for a short period ten years ago, he'd told her in what as far as he was concerned were unmistakable terms that he wasn't going to continue their relationship, and except for fleeting accidental meetings in public there had been no interaction between them ever since. And yet she'd thrown herself at him at Veterans Ball and acted as if she was his long lost love and that they were going to pick from where they left off.

Harry huffed as he grimaced at his reflection in the mirror. As always, his hair refused to lie flat or cooperate in even the most basic way. It probably didn't matter today, thank Merlin a garden party was a rather informal affair.

He'd have to talk to Ginny one of these days; he had to make her see reason, see the truth: there was no turning back for him to the couple they once had been. Why she thought he would want that was beyond his comprehension. Even Ginny must have noticed that they barely had anything in common anymore. And he'd be damned if he let her upset Daphne.

He slipped into his dark blue robes with understated silver embroidery around the hems, and walked downstairs in search of his beautiful wife.

They'd hardly seen each other over the last couple of days: he'd been busy at headquarters, while Daphne stayed at _The Rectory_ to coordinate the necessary preparations for the party. Apparently, that wasn't done with telling the elves what she wanted, but also included countless meetings with numerous tradesmen for a great many things, starting with the drinks and the flowers to renting a tent big enough for two-hundred people in case of rain.

She'd still been busy with long lists of things that had to be done hours after he returned from work, and had been short and irritable whenever he walked into their shared study they had set up in Daphne's former bedroom at _The Rectory_, in the hopes she'd call it a day. Meanwhile, he knew when it was better not to cross her, and he had left her to her preparations until she was ready to join him in the family room late at night.

He found Daphne in the park, on a last inspection round to check on the preparations in the tent on the back lawn, and put his arms around her from behind. He couldn't help it when his gaze wandered down her body and lingered on her magnificent legs, which were on display thanks to her very fashionable and very short sleeveless dress robes of dusky pink Acromantula silk with just a hint of silver embroidery that matched his own.

'I must say that I am shocked, Mrs Potter, the old Pureblood farts will have a heart attack, but you look simply stunning.'

She laughed and gave a seductive twirl. 'I knew you'd like my new robes.' She relaxed against his body with a small sigh.

His eyes scrutinised her face. She had styled her hair into a simple French braid. Small strands of hair had been allowed to escape the braid and framed her face in a very flattering way that enhanced her glowing skin. And yet, something was off. He took another look, and a deep frown appeared between his eyebrows.

'Daphne, are you wearing a Glamour Charm?'

She sighed again and turned her head to look at him. 'I am, the last few days have been rather stressful.'

That was a diversionary tactic, if he'd ever seen one. 'Are you still feeling unwell?' Damn, that came out sharper than he'd intended.

Daphne stiffened in his arms. 'I'm alright.'

She resented his fussing; with good reason: he knew he overdid it. He couldn't help himself, ever since she'd been poisoned five years ago he worried about her whenever she showed any signs of being unwell. She'd almost been taken from him …

He dropped a kiss on the crown of her head. 'I'm sorry, darling.'

That seemed to appease her somewhat, however, he was far from being calm about the fact that she thought it necessary to hide her natural appearance. She hadn't been feeling well ever since he returned from his business trip. Had she even been to see a healer, as she had promised him a week ago? Most likely not, she was as stubborn as he was when it came to being sick, and she would've taken the preparations for the party as a ready excuse not to see a healer.

Well, he probably needed to remind her that there were two pigheaded people in this marriage - but not tonight; they had to make a good impression, tonight they had to be on the same page. Harry suppressed a grin: a temperamental Potter marital row would probably distract from the purpose of this event.

Twenty minutes later, the gardens of _The Rectory _teemed with people. Their house elves distributed elven champagne and Pimm's among the guests, but there were also a number of bars scattered throughout the garden and on the ground floor of the house that served cocktails, butterbeer and ale, wine, pumpkin juice, a selection of Muggle soft drinks, and of course tea. After the war, it had become fashionable for hostesses to treat their guests to Muggle food, and not even the most fanatic Pureblood hostess dared to be out of touch with fashion.

Buffets with finger food, strawberries and cream, and a selection of delicious cakes were set up in the tent and the dining room of the house, and the elves had already started roasting a whole hog on the patio in front of the breakfast room. There'd also be a selection of other barbeque meats and salads for later in the evening.

Harry and Daphne mingled with their guests. The summer afternoon was sunny and warm, with only little wind. The gardens of _The Rectory _were in full bloom, and Daphne had outdone herself with the decoration. Besides the tent there were groups of garden chairs and tables scattered in the shade of the trees that surrounded the lawn, and there also were deckchairs, beanbags and a few vintage quilts strewn on the lawn that invited the guests to sit down and have a relaxing chat with friends. Vases filled with wild roses were on the tables and colourful streamers danced from tree to tree, adding to the cheerful atmosphere.

Once the sun had set, thousands of Fairy Lights would illuminate the garden. A band played on the terrace for those who wanted to dance, with a few couples already enjoying themselves on the dancefloor.

They made sure to talk to everyone, and took extra time to talk to the huge contingent of international press whose members Director McLean had invited. After all, this was a promotion party. The who's who of Britain's magical society that had been invited were only the backing artists for Ginny's unveiling as the new face of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products later that night. Her identity had been kept a secret so far, she'd been announced into the party as a surprise celebrity.

The downside was, the presence of the press meant they had also to deal with Skeeter. It didn't take long for her to make her move. They should've known she wasn't interested in talking about Crystal Fairy Beauty Products, but still focussed on the events of the night of the Veterans Ball.

'Mrs Potter, Harry, our readers will be delighted to know you managed to overcome the … disagreement you had on Veterans Ball.' Skeeter's eyes shot back and forth between Harry and Daphne behind her bejewelled spectacles like the eyes of an insect, an eerie reminder to Harry of her animagus form, and came to rest on their entwined hands.

Daphne let out a small laugh. 'Rita, once again you seem to know more than we do. I don't know about a disagreement on Veterans Ball.' She squeezed his hand as if in warning.

It wasn't necessary, by now he'd learned to control his features in public, though he still didn't have Daphne's skill: her laughter had sounded genuine, and the smile on her face was sincere. There was a reason why the Sorting Hat had put her into Slytherin. Well, since his little snake seemed to handle the poisonous beetle much better than he could ever hope for, he'd better keep silent and enjoy the show.

Skeeter's pencilled eyebrows went up at least one inch, and she scrunched her warning-sign-red mouth into an ironic grimace of disbelief. 'Now, Mrs Potter, there's no need to sugarcoat things for my benefit. We all saw how you left the ballroom after Harry's scandalous dance with his girlfriend. There's no doubt you had words after that.'

'Ex-girlfriend,' Daphne said. She slid her arm around Harry's waist and snuggled against him.

That was his cue: he also put his arm around her waist, drawing her closer to him.

'Why in the world do you think I was mad at my husband because he was nice enough to welcome back an old family friend?' Daphne's voice was full of harmless astonishment. She shot Skeeter another smile. 'Poor Ginny, the evening must have been dreadful for her: she was away for so long and has lost touch with everyone.'

Skeeter opened her mouth, no doubt to utter her disbelief at Daphne's statement.

Harry suppressed a snort. Skeeter was no match for Daphne in full Pureblood distraction mode; she'd been groomed from the cradle always to present an intact façade in public and never to let slip private problems.

Daphne turned slightly in his arm and put her head against his shoulder, while her other arm also snaked around his waist and pulled him closer to her. 'And for our disappearing … ' She giggled, raised her head, and blew him a small kiss before she turned back to Skeeter. 'Well, you know how delightful the gardens at the Silver Phoenix Resort are, Rita. My husband and I have very fond memories of one grotto in particular, and we left the ballroom to find out if it was still as secluded and romantic as we remembered.' She tilted her head back and gave him a sultry look that seemed to raise the temperature of the warm May afternoon a few degrees.

The invitation in her eyes was unmistakable, so he bent down and kissed her, full of admiration for her acting skills, drawing the kiss out waiting for Daphne to break it, trusting her to know how far they could push this. She'd told the truth about their whereabouts, but she'd also diffused the fact that she'd been royally pissed at him when he took her to the grotto to talk.

He was still thanking Merlin and all other deities that were that she'd let him off the hook that easily. Damn Ginny and her shenanigans; she was still a sensitive topic between Daphne and him, and her meddling could have caused a serious fight between them, if Daphne hadn't been that sensible about the awkward situation.

Skeeter cleared her throat uncomfortably, but Daphne's lips lingered on his a moment longer as Rita started talking anyway. 'So, you want me to believe you left the party just to make out like hormonal teenagers?' She rolled her eyes at them. 'For Merlin's sake, you're married for almost ten years!'

'Oh, but some things just get better with age,' Harry said with a small chuckle. He looked down at his wife. 'Don't you think so, darling?'

'Absolutely,' Daphne said, her voice husky.

Skeeter huffed and stepped closer. 'You don't have to put on an act for my benefit, Harry. Everybody knows-'

He never found out what everybody knew. Rhys Patterson, Merlin bless him, chose that moment to remind him that he was expected on the terrace for his official opening speech and the presentation of the new face of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products.

Daphne shot Skeeter another blinding smile. 'Excuse us, Rita, we're needed elsewhere.'

Their arms still wrapped around each other, Harry and Daphne followed Patterson to the terrace. Patterson gave a small nod to the band, and they played a fanfare.

With an inward grimace, Harry pointed his wand at his throat. 'Sonorus.' He hated to talk in public, but this was one of the occasions where he couldn't back out. 'Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,' he greeted the many upturned faces on the lawn. Thankfully, Director McLean had provided him with the speech for this event, and he had memorised it. Even better, the speech was short and to the point, and he soon came to the conclusion.

'Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado I'm honoured to present to you the new face of Crystal Fairy Beauty for the magical world … GINNY WEASLEY!'

He stepped aside; the door of the house opened and Ginny walked onto the terrace, resplendent in low-cut robes of emerald Acromantula silk with lavish gold embroidery all over. The robes clung tight to her athletic figure, and her red mane took on a life of its own in the last rays of the sinking sun.

Harry joined the enthusiastic applause and exchanged a smirk with Daphne across the terrace. As much as he hated what it was doing to his wife, there was no doubt that contracting Ginny was a good move for the company.

Small hands on his shoulders pulled him down to a pair of soft lips that kissed both of his cheeks, and lingered just a tad too long with each kiss. A familiar, flowery scent reached his nostrils.

He stiffened. Ginny! Damn, she'd caught him unawares.

'Thank you for the warm welcome, Harry, dear,' she said, her voice also magically amplified. 'I'm honoured to represent a company as old and important for the magical world as Crystal Fairy Beauty Products.'

Under the applause of the onlookers she took his arm and obviously had no intention of letting it go any time soon. His jaw set in a taut line, Harry cast a surreptitious look at his wife.

She smiled and clapped her hands - what else could she do in this situation?

Their eyes met, and she responded to his silent plea for help with a slight grimace that could be taken for a smile with some goodwill, and an imperceptible nod.

Harry suppressed a sigh. Obviously she wanted him to get on with the programme and introduce Ginny to the important guests of the party and the reporters of influential fashion magazines. This would have been McLean's job, but Ginny had thwarted their plans by hogging him. He gritted his teeth. He'd love to give Ginny a piece of his mind, but right now was neither the time nor the place - as she well knew, if her smug smile was anything to go by.

They walked down the steps that led to the garden to mingle with the other party guests.

'What game are you playing, Ginny?' he asked under the cover of the continued applause and the excited chatter of the guests.

She gave him a seductive smile from under her eyelashes. 'I've come home, Harry. Don't you think it's about time you admit to yourself that you've been unhappy without me?'

His breath caught, he coughed and gave her a hard stare. She was joking, wasn't she?

The smile around her lips became even brighter, and she leaned against him.

Merlin help him, she was serious. His self control that had become legend among the employees of Crystal Fairy's threatened to desert him, and he barely prevented himself from yelling at her. Aloud he said, 'You're delusional, Ginny. I'm happily married.'

Ginny let out a soft laugh. Had her laughter always been this infuriating? She squeezed his arm in a way that was much too intimate. 'You don't have to play make believe with me, Harry.'

They reached the first guests, and he was prevented from a reply that was anything but diplomatic or even polite, and would have set off Ginny's infamous temper.

It had become second nature to him to keep a bland face and respond to the demands of the company he was in, so he pulled off the necessary introductions without letting on anything about his anger and confusion, while he waited for the right moment to get rid of Ginny's arm and excuse himself from her unwanted company.

The moment never came. They had made their rounds among the guests and the reporters. Ginny had performed her duty without a flaw, he had to give her that. He let his eyes swerve around the crowd of chatting and laughing party guests. Where was Daphne? Didn't she know he needed her help?

Ginny tried to melt against him, and he made a step to the side to get some space. He looked once again for his wife. She didn't seem to be in the garden, so she was probably in the house or in the patio next to the breakfast room to make sure everything was alright. He manoeuvred Ginny towards the house. With Ginny on his arm, he circled the reception rooms on the ground floor: the dining room, the drawing room, the smaller formal sitting room, and the conservatory that connected the formal sitting room and the drawing room at the side of the house. However, there was no sign of Daphne.

'I had no idea the house is this big,' Ginny said.

Harry gave a noncommittal grunt. They were back in the hallway, and he walked Ginny towards the entrance of the house, to look for his wife in the patio.

Ginny pushed a strand of her hair out of her face. 'Why did you choose this house for your residence and not one of the Potter houses?'

His head jerked around to her; it was a valid question he supposed, albeit not one he'd ever given much thought to. 'It just happened this way. Daphne loves this house; she grew up here, you know, and we lived in the dowager house for the first five years of our marriage, so I've become somewhat attached to the property, too. When Daphne's family was killed by that manipulated Portkey -'

He broke off; even after more than two years he remembered the grief that had consumed both of them, but especially Daphne, as if it had been just yesterday. Staying at _The Rectory _and making the house their home had been a natural choice, hell, it probably wasn't even a choice, there was just no need to choose differently: it gave both of them the connection to the family they had lost.

Ginny, however, wouldn't know that. She'd left the country and hadn't been a part of his and Daphne's lives like her older brothers and their wives. Neither Ron nor Bill would have asked that question: they knew what they'd been through. On the contrary, all of their friends had been understanding about their move into _The Rectory._

Ginny made a face at his answer. 'I don't think you should have given into the whim of your wife, Harry. It is afterall custom that the wife follows the husband into his home, and the Potter residence is bigger and more impressive than this house.'

Harry gritted his teeth. Did she believe the nonsense she spouted, or was it just her way to say something mean about Daphne?

She looked up at him, a sultry smile on her lips. 'Your loss is my gain. Do you know I rented the Potter residence on the other side of this village from you? I signed the contract at Gringotts a couple of days ago.'

A jolt went through him. Why had she done that? Was it another of her sick games? Of course he had known his grandfather Fleamont Potter had bought a manor house close to _The Rectory_; after all, he and Daphne's grandfather had been best friends. He and Daphne had visited the house once in the early years of their marriage and decided it was much too big and austintatious for their taste. _The Rectory _was a small and cosy family home, compared to the grandeur of _Stinchcombe Hall_, with its almost fifty feet long, gilded drawing room and Merlin only knew how many more reception rooms on the ground floor, and its expansive grounds. Though, it had its uses; they'd held a couple of large and formal receptions there.

He pursed his lips in a wry smile. It seemed that the rumours regarding Ginny's numerous advantageous divorce agreements hadn't been exaggerated: you had to be extremely well off to pay the rent he demanded for _Stinchcombe Hall_.

They had reached the entrance as they talked, and now walked through the pinewood arch to the patio. An appetising smell of barbecued meat greeted them, and Harry's stomach gave an appreciative growl. Most guests seemed already to have stopped by for their dinner, if the somewhat decimated remains of the barbecued hog were anything to go by, but there was still more than enough left. Matty's daughter was just preparing one of the barbecue grills with fresh coal, and a couple of guests still lingered around the high bar tables Daphne had put up for eating between the buffet and the grills

He finally discovered his wife at one of those tables. She seemed to be in an animated chat with Director McLean, Patterson, Cadwallader and Williams from Crystal Fairy. The latter two were here on Director McLean's suggestion; he'd thought it necessary to have the Potion specialists at hand to answer any question the international press might have about their current line of products.

Hermione should have been there, too, but she was on a long-scheduled trip to the U.S.A. to check the quality of their production over there. Pince had left the company a month after Cyrus' death, not missed by anyone - least of all Harry and Daphne. His deputy Abbott had followed him into the director of the department chair.

However, Abbott had told them of his decision to retire at the end of the year a couple of weeks ago. They hadn't promoted a deputy from the incumbents instead splitting the duties across Hermione, Pyke, Cadwallader and Williams. He and Daphne had agreed that on performance Hermione was the most natural choice for his successor. Little did their friend know that this trip was the test Daphne had come up with to gauge Hermione's administrative skills, though neither she nor Harry doubted that Hermione would excel at it.

Pince, Abbott and Pyke were also there, they stood at a table in the corner of the patio, in an animated talk with another wizard who had his back turned to Harry. He looked somewhat familiar, though Harry couldn't come up with a name right now.

At another table stood Ginny's agent, a glass of Muggle ale in his hand, whilst he chatted with a few members of the magical high society they'd had to invite to this event to give the party an air of distinction.

Harry recognised Theodore Nott, and the bloke who had been Fleur's date to the Yule Ball, Davis. Next to them were Draco Malfoy with his wife Sophie, neé Roper, and Cormac McLaggen with the ever-simpering Pansy. They all belonged to the kind of people he used to give a wide berth, if possible. However, his position in magical society made that impossible, so he schooled his face to a bland mask and acknowledged the party with a small nod.

Of course, Ginny tried to drag him over to her agent. However, he'd had enough of her, and ignored her efforts. Instead, he pulled her with him, over to where Daphne stood.

She had her back turned to him and didn't notice his approach. Matty called something to her; she pushed herself from the high bar table she was leaning against, and walked over to the barbecue area where Matty and her daughter worked.

She'd just reached Matty, when Mipsy poured a clear liquid over the coals and ignited them with a snap of her fingers.

An enormous jet of flame soared up. The two elves popped away just in time before they were consumed by the flame.

Daphne, however, stood frozen. Time seemed to slow down as the huge flame raced towards her and threatened to burn her to a crisp.

The next second, something heavy crashed into Harry at high speed. He was knocked into Ginny, and they went down in a heap of arms and legs. Harry twisted around to lessen the fall of the bundle of blonde hair and dusty pink Acromantula silk that had bowled him over, and tightened his arms around it to prevent it from more harm.

'Oof!' The wind was knocked out of him when he hit the ground. The back of his head connected with the flagstones of the patio, and for a few seconds all he could see were stars dancing in front of his eyes.

Beside him, Ginny let out a loud scream that turned into a somehow theatrical sounding whimper.

He didn't pay her any heed. His attention was solely on his wife in his arms. She looked even paler than she had on the day of the Veterans Ball, and her unfocussed, glazed eyes betrayed the shock she'd just suffered. She struggled in his arms, and he held her tight. 'Easy there, darling. Are you alright?'

She relaxed at once at the sound of his voice. 'I … I don't know. I think I am.'

'Stay put,' he told her and rolled himself away from below her, while lowering her to the ground. He crouched before her and let his gaze and his hands wander over her body. She was right, she seemed to have escaped the flame without even a scorched hair. A huge breath escaped his mouth.

The two house elves popped back. At the sight of their mistress on the ground they both cried out and banged their heads against the edge of the iron barbecue grill.

'Matty, Mipsy, stop that,' Harry shouted. He hated to be curt with their elves, however, right now he had more important things on his mind. 'It seems you escaped the flame without a scratch,' he said to Daphne.

Ginny's whimper intensified. 'Haaarry!'

The sound got on his nerves; she wasn't hurt, as far as he could tell, only her pride had suffered. She should know that his first priority was with his wife, who had been in severe danger only seconds ago. He shot her an annoyed glance, before his attention immediately switched back to Daphne.

Ginny's whimper turned into a loud and annoying wail. She tugged at his arm, apparently wanting him to take care of her. He shrugged her off; he had more important things to do right now.

'Do you think you can get up?' he asked his wife.

Daphne propped herself up on her elbows. 'Yes … I think that should work.' She tried to scramble to her feet, but he held her back.

'Easy, not so fast, darling, let me help you.'

With his help, she slowly got to her feet. As soon as she straightened, she slumped against him.

'Daphne!' Harry still had his arms around her and caught her fall.

She leaned against him and turned her head up to him. 'I'm sorry, honey, everything became black for a moment.'

Harry's stomach tied itself into a hard knot. What, by Merlin, was wrong with his wife? It wasn't like her to faint like some damsel in distress. 'I'd better get you to St. Mungo's for a check-up. I really don't like that you fainted on me.'

Daphne stiffened in his arms. 'I didn't faint, I just was dizzy after the fright I've had. Besides, we can't leave our party, Harry.' Her mouth settled into a stubborn line at her last words.

He let out a deep sigh. There was no reasoning with her when she dug her heels in and looked like this. 'Alright, you'll have it your way. But this is non negotiable, you'll stay by my side for the remainder of the party, and you're going to see a healer on Monday, even if I'll have to drag you there myself, kicking and screaming.'

'Of course, honey. Though, make that Tuesday. On Monday I have an all-day appointment to get pampered at Lavender's Beauty Parlour. After the week I've just had there is no way in the seven circles of hell that I'm going to cancel that appointment.'

He gave her a sharp look, not at all convinced by her sudden meekness, conjured an armchair for her, and helped her sit down.

Daphne gave a huff as she sat, 'You forgot the smelling salts, honey, should I call Matty to get them?'

A heavy load seemed to slide off his heart like a landslide, and a broad smile appeared on Harry's face. 'I take it you're feeling much better, given you're already back to making sarcastic comments.'

'Of course I am,' she replied and rolled her eyes at him. 'Neither I'm milking it as other people I could name appear to be doing,' she added in a much lower voice. Her eyes flickered to Ginny, who was still wailing on the ground.

Harry turned his head to take a look. Admittedly, Daphne had a point.

Williams kneed beside Ginny and was just about to help her sit up. Ginny clung to him as if her life depended on him, and came to an upright position with much moaning and groaning.

From Harry's point of view she looked perfectly fine, except for a tear in the side of her robes, and slightly tousled hair. Maybe he ought to feel sorry for bowling her over when he summoned Daphne towards himself with the most powerful wandless Summoning Charm he had ever cast silently. The impact surely had been much heavier than he'd expected. Yet, he couldn't find it in himself; Daphne had been in danger to be seriously injured, if not killed, and he had acted on instinct to prevent her from harm.

He sat down on the armrest of Daphne's chair, put an arm around her shoulder, and hugged her towards him. Thank Merlin she was alright; he didn't think he could have coped with another close call like the one five years ago.

Assisted by Williams, Ginny got on her feet, and gave Williams a blinding smile in thanks, while she still leaned on his arm. However, all thoughts of her supposed weakness were forgotten when she discovered the tear in her robes.

'My robes!' she shrieked, with an amazingly strong voice for a woman who'd just recovered from a severe shock.

Daphne's shoulders trembled under his arm, though her face remained blank. She let her wand slid out of the invisible holster on her arm and directed it on Ginny.

The tear in her robes repaired itself, and Ginny was stopped mid-rant.

'Are you a witch, or what?' Daphne asked mildly, and slipped the wand back into the holster.

Ginny furrowed her brows and cast her a murderous glance. The next second, however, she remembered where she was; a sweet, but fake smile appeared on her face, and she inclined her head in thanks.

Harry suppressed a sigh; it would seem to be too much to ask for Ginny and Daphne to get along. While Daphne would keep up a polite façade towards Ginny for the company's sake, there was no denying any longer that Ginny had tried twice to make a move on him since she returned to England, and there was probably more to come in the future. Daphne wouldn't let that pass unpunished, not as jealous as she was. Her blonde porcelain doll looks and polite Pureblood manners were deceiving: she hadn't been Sorted into Slytherin for nothing; if her ire was provoked, she'd strike as fast and painfully as the bite of her school's house emblem.

He tightened his grip around Daphne's shoulders and dropped a lingering kiss on her head. It had the desired effect: she relaxed, raised her head, and blew him a kiss in return, a small smile around her lips.

Harry breathed out: the immediate crisis was averted, however, he ought to have a talk with Ginny as soon as possible and discourage her of the silly notion that he'd ever return back to her. Daphne shouldn't be troubled by Ginny's silly games.

The rest of the night passed by uneventful, thank Merlin. Ginny coaxed Williams into escorting her home soon after the incident.

Daphne watched them leaving together, a smirk on her face. 'That's surely the biggest conquest he's made so far.'

Harry hummed in agreement. He couldn't care less about Williams' conquests that were the source of never ending gossip at headquarters, though in this case he might be useful: hopefully, the ever-tanned California surfer boy would give Ginny the shag of her life and keep her mind occupied elsewhere.

The last guests left in the wee hours of the morning. Harry escorted Daphne into their bedroom and made sure she was safe in bed and asleep before he returned to the ground floor in search of their house elves. The small creatures wouldn't go to sleep before they had set the house and grounds back to order so their mistress and master could have a quiet Sunday.

There was something about the incident with the barbecue grill that bothered him.

He found Matty and Mipsy in the kitchen, busy putting the elven equivalent of Stasis Charms on the leftovers, and storing them into the huge, American refrigerator that was the centerpiece of the kitchen.

'Mipsy, may I have a word?'

The younger elf put away the bowl she had in her hands and turned towards him.

'Yes, Master Harry?' Her voice was apprehensive, but she showed no fear. Greengrass elves were well cared for since the first elf came into the family centuries ago; Mipsy knew that she wouldn't face a severe punishment even if she'd made a mistake.

'Can you show me the bottle with the stuff you used to light the coals?'

Mipsy snapped her fingers, and a green plastic bottle appeared on the kitchen countertop in front of them.

Harry picked up the bottle and studied the label. It was a common Muggle lighting gel, the kind you could get at every shop that sold barbecue equipment. He twisted off the top and poured some of the contents into a small conjured bowl. A milky-white gel came out of the bottle, very unlike to the clear watery liquid he had seen when Mipsy tried to get the grill to work.

He shut the bottle, handed it back to Mipsy, and vanished the bowl with the small amount of lighting gel.

Mipsy gave him a curious look, Banished the bottle back to where it had come from with a snap of her fingers, and returned to her work.

With a nod at the elves Harry left the kitchen and walked upstairs to their room, his head bent deep in thought. There was no doubt whatever Mipsy had poured over the coals was different and more dangerous than the lighting gel that was supposed to be in the bottle. There was only one possible explanation for that: someone had Transfigured the contents of the bottle.

It was unfathomable to even think that it had been done by the elves, they were bound to Daphne and deeply devoted to her, and by extension to him.

No, the culprit had to be among the guest that were with them in the patio at the time. Even worse, the MO was very similar to the poisoning of Daphne five years ago. There was no proof, of course, but what if the incidents were related and both had been attacks on Daphne?

He groaned and rubbed his face with the palms of his hands. Maybe it was about time to pull his father-in-laws old investigator, Nicholas Greco out of his semi-retirement and set him to work on another confidential investigation_._

_t.b.c._


	6. Chapter 6

** _The Rectory, May 16th, 2008_ **

Merlin damn it, that hurt! Stars danced in front of Ginny's eyes when her behind hit the hard flagstones of the patio. There was also a distinctive ripping sound that indicated that her expensive robes hadn't survived the fall without damage. Double damn it!

Ginny let out a scream of frustration. From the corner of her eyes, she looked at Harry.

He lay beside her, flat on his back, his arms wrapped protectively around Greengrass, and the wind knocked out of him. Without any doubt the noble prat had Summoned his wife towards him when she was dumb enough to step into the path of the jet of flame, he'd even twisted around so he'd take the brunt of their fall.

What was he thinking? He should have made sure his guest of honour didn't come to any harm. She whimpered; that never failed to get her the attention she wanted.

Except this time. Harry didn't even do so much as turn his head, his attention was solely on his irritating wife. Greengrass struggled in his arms, and he said something into her ear that calmed her down at once. The reply from the dratted woman was so low she couldn't understand it. Harry's next words, however, were loud and clear.

'Stay put,' he told Greengrass, and wriggled his way out from below her. Instead of finally turning his attention to his guest - his secret true love - and making sure she wasn't injured, he crouched down in front of his wife and examined her with more tenderness and care than the cow deserved.

That was unbearable. Ginny gritted her teeth; she had to do something.

'Haaarry!' she whimpered.

This got his attention, although not as she had planned on. Instead of showering her with care, he shot her an annoyed side glance.

Ginny barely suppressed a gasp of fury. How dare he?

Years of playing Quidditch had taught her to become a good actor whenever a foul had been committed against her - or when she wanted to make the referee think a foul had been committed against her - and she increased her whimper to a wail. This should get his attention and the care she was due.

There still was no reaction from Harry. She reached out with her hand and tugged at his arm.

Harry shrugged her off.

'Let me help you, Ms Weasley.'

Ginny turned her head and looked up at one of the finest male specimen she'd ever seen. Tall, tanned, with broad shoulders and narrow hips, and a mop of unruly, sun-streaked hair he looked like the surfer boys she had seen in California. Her abdomen constricted in an almost painful way, and she licked her lips. True to the role of the injured heroine, she let a weak smile appear on her face.

'Thank you so much, Mr…?'

'Williams, Morten Williams.' He put an arm behind her back and helped her sit upright.

She leaned against his solid body and gave him a blinding smile. 'Thank you for your assistance, Morten.' Ever conscious of her public appearance, she looked down her dress and gasped. There was a huge tear in her expensive designer robes.

'My robes!' she shrieked.

The next second, a spell hit her, and the tear repaired itself.

Ginny jerked her head up, only to stare into Greengrass' smirking face.

'Are you a witch or what?' the damned woman asked, and let her wand slip back into an invisible holster she carried on her right forearm.

Now, that was interesting. Why thought Greengrass it necessary to have her wand in easy access during a party at her own home? Even worse, the bitch had helped her in a predicament. Why hadn't she thought of repairing her robes herself? Although to be fair, she was hopeless when it came to anything household related. However, she had more pressing matters to attend to right now.

Ginny furrowed her brows and glared at Greengrass. Harry had conjured an armchair for the bitch and sat beside her on the armrest, a comforting arm around her shoulders. Within a second, she schooled her face into a polite smile and inclined her head in thanks. It wouldn't do to let Harry see that she destested his wife, it would only provoke him into coming to her defense, as chivalrous as he was. No, Harry needed to discover Greengrass' shortcomings in his own time, of course guided by herself.

'May I get you something to drink, Ms Weasley?' Morten Williams asked.

She gave him a smile that was very different from the one she'd given Greengrass. 'That would be very nice, Morten. But please, call me Ginny. Ms Weasley is my mother.'

'It's my pleasure,' Morten replied, and turned towards the bar to get her a drink.

From the corner of her eyes, Ginny watched Harry and his wife. He still had an arm around her shoulders. Now he even bent down and kissed the crown of her head. The bitch melted against him, raised her head, and blew him a kiss in return. The simper on her face was enough to make her want to vomit.

Morten returned with two glasses of elven champagne in his hands and offered one to her.

She thanked him with another blinding smile, accepted the glass, and took a sip, while her eyes never left his. This man was a gift of the gods, just what she had looked for to give Harry the wake-up call he needed. He might not be much in forms of standing in the British magical world, given that his accent clearly gave him away as an U.S. citizen. However, Harry had never cared much for social standing, so she didn't need to impress him in that area, anyway. What Morten lacked in standing, he more than made up in looks and charm. In short, he was everything Harry could never hope to be, even though he had developed nicely after he took that potion treatment. Oh, Harry was definitely eye-candy, there was no denying that, but Morten was in a league of its own.

She shook her fiery mane and let a few locks slide over her shoulders, while she gave him a sultry smile.

His sudden intake of breath indicated that he noticed. Her smile intensified, and she let her hand wander up his arm. He'd swallowed the bait. Now all she had to do was to reel him in.

* * *

One hour later Ginny led an appreciatively whistling Morten Williams into her private sitting room next to her bedroom at Stinchcombe Hall, the main seat of the Potter family she had rented from Harry. She couldn't blame him, the sprawling country house and its precious antique interior was impressive. Each morning when she woke up she still had to pinch herself that she, poor Ginny Weasley from an impoverished family, now resided in such a splendor. Harry surely would love to live with her in his ancestral home as soon as he was ready to leave Greengrass…

But now was not the time to dream about the future; she had work to do. With a seductive smile, she pulled Morten Williams down onto the sofa beside her, and kissed him deeply. She closed her eyes; he was good, she'd enjoy this interplay before she could be with Harry.

She opened her eyes and looked up at Morten, the seductive smile still on her lips. The next second, she froze.

Mortens' wand was pointed at her. 'Imperio,' he said.

Warmth flooded her body, and everything seemed to float.

'Tell me everything you know about Harry and Daphne Potter,' he said.

t.b.c.


	7. Chapter 7

_ **Stinchcombe Hall, May 17th 2008** _

This time, the elf was no match for him, he would've blasted the infernal creature into smithereens, had it denied him access to the house yet another time. It must have shown in his expression, because the elf had let out a fearful whimper and _Plopped _away.

He hurried through the impressive entrance hall of _Stinchcombe Hall _towards the central marble staircase.

Everything in the huge house oozed of impeccable taste and old money. Actually, "house" was probably the wrong word; this place was a veritable palace. Why Ginny had insisted on renting the vast country manor was beyond him. Potter had to have an army of house elves to keep the place in order.

The house boasted of an entire ground floor with no less than five reception rooms made for entertaining guests, with a swimming pool complex in an annex, and a huge stable complex out on the grounds, there were three two-bedroom-suites in addition to the master suite, and at least four more guest rooms with ensuites, not to mention a guest house with another four bedrooms. Of course, she had a childlike joy in indulging herself with the most expensive things her money could buy. It was strange, that after all these years at the top of her profession, deep inside of her she still harboured the insecurities of the eleven year old firstie in second-hand robes.

Well, he wouldn't begrudge her the pleasantries of life; she deserved the best. If renting _Stinchcombe Hall _meant assurance for her that she'd really made it, he wouldn't breathe a word of protest. Then why couldn't he get over the suspicion she only rented it because it gave her a connection to Potter?

He gritted his teeth. Potter! Everything started and ended with him, ever since he could remember everything was always about him with Ginny. The bastard was the first one to blame when it came to her insecurities. He had ignored her when they were very young teenagers, then toyed with her for two short weeks, before he ditched her because she was in his way when he left to hunt down the Dark Lord, and yet another time because she stood between him and his money.

Ginny had eventually got over him, twice. But she'd never given up on him, no matter what she told him, even though nowadays her feelings for him were driven by resentment and a thirst for revenge. Nevertheless, she'd never be truly his before she'd had Potter and got from him whatever it was what she wanted. She probably even didn't know herself what that was.

He'd reached the first floor over his musings, and now stood in the spacious hallway that ran through the length of the house. Right in front of him a tall window opened towards the formal gardens at the back of the house, and allowed a great view of the lake in the park beyond. To his left were the guest suites, and to his right the master suite.

He didn't bother to knock; his anger was still hot enough to want an outlet, and she wouldn't have heard him, anyway. He pushed open the tall double doors and stormed through the private sitting room to another set of tall double doors on the opposite side. He pushed the gilded doors open with more force than necessary. They banged against the wall with a most satisfying loud thud.

Ginny shot upright in the huge four poster bed, the satin duvet clutched in front of her naked bosom. Her eyes flickered to her wand, out of her immediate reach on the bedside table, and then to his face.

'Oh, it's you.' She heaved a deep breath and laid back.

His eyes searched the bed next to her. It was empty. So, she'd at least had the decency to send her lover home.

'Yeah, it's me,' he snarled. 'What the bloody hell has got into you, Ginny? _Miss bes with visitor. Miss bes not disturbed.' _He parroted the squeaky voice of the house elf. 'Then the blasted creature Banished me out into the courtyard and sealed the doors against me! Damn you, Ginny, we have an agreement. I don't mind you sleeping with the blokes we've both picked out as possible candidates for your next husband. This Williams bloke, however, wasn't on the list. If you think I'll keep my mouth shut to you cheating on me, you're mistaken.'

She'd retreated deeper into the sumptuous cushions of the luxurious bed with each word he'd said, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open.

'Wh … What's got into you, love? I've never seen you like this.'

He growled. 'You've never cheated on me before. Tell me, do you love that bloke?'

'Do I love …?' She gaped at him once more. 'Of course not.' She cast the duvet back, slid out of the bed, and walked towards him in all her naked glory. She pressed herself against him and slid her arms around his neck. Her warm breath caressed his throat.

He gritted his teeth. Of course she had to fight dirty, she knew very well that he wasn't able to resist her, especially a naked her.

'You know you're the only one for me, love. Morten is just a means to an end; I need a hunk of a man on my arm to make Harry jealous.'

Red spots appeared in front of his eyes, and his stomach churned. Potter! Everything always came back to him. His hands shot up, and he yanked her arms off his neck. 'Stop it, Ginny. That won't work with me today.'

She winced under the iron grip of his hands on her arms. 'You're hurting me.'

He loosened his grip. 'I'm sorry.'

'As you should be.'

Chocolate brown eyes pouted at him, melted him into a helpless puddle of goo at her feet. Merlin grant that she'd never find out about the power she held over him. The flames of his ire extinguished themselves in those molten pools.

He raised his arm and cupped her cheek with the palm of his hand, his voice soft as he spoke. 'Ginny, love … I hate to say it, but I think you're deluding yourself if you think you can arouse Potter's interest by starting an affair with that bloke from the U.S.A.'

She stiffened under his hand, the spark of a dangerous fire gleamed in her eyes. 'What do you mean?' She took a step back and let his hand slide off her face.

A beam of sunlight found its way through a gap in the closed brocade curtains in front of the windows and bathed her in a golden light.

His throat constricted. She was so beautiful! A grown up woman, a tough Quidditch professional, with the figure of a goddess, and a mane of red hair that set him on fire each time he looked at her. Yet, she was still so insecure, childlike and naïve on the inside. Probably nobody except him knew how insecure she really was … Merlin, he hated to do this to her, however, he had to try and make her see reason, she was set on a path that would destroy her, and she'd take him with her.

He took her by the hand, led her to the bed and motioned her to sit down on the edge.

She followed his lead, her eyebrows creased in a deep frown. 'What's this all about?'

He sat down beside her, her hand still in his and contemplated his next words carefully. 'You know I love you, right? So let me ask if you have stopped and thought about Potter's reaction to you since your return? From where I'm standing he doesn't seem to be exactly thrilled about it.'

Ginny shrugged her shoulders. 'Of course not, he can't show his real feelings. You must've noticed how Greengrass always keeps close to him and never lets him out of her sight. I'm not surprised about that; I know Harry, he's a very passive person, he's let himself be slapped around far too often. That's why I need Morten, I need to shake him up, he needs to realise he's in danger of losing me once and for all.'

His stomach hardened, and the first signs of a headache throbbed at his temples. He pinched his lips together and suppressed the swear word that welled up in him. _Cazzo*! _She was even further from acknowledging reality than he'd thought.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and tried to reason with her again. 'No, Ginny, it's not like that. You'll hurt yourself if you continue finding excuses. You need to look at his behaviour and analyse it rationally for what it is, and not what you want it to be. Nothing in his behaviour even remotely suggests he might have the slightest interest in you. It's quite the contrary, I'm afraid.'

She yanked her hand out of his and crossed her arms in front of her chest. The fire in her eyes became more pronounced. 'Explain. Remember, you are the Slytherin who can analyse people and their motivation in the blink of an eye. I'm just a straightforward Gryffindor.'

Great, now she was mocking at him. The chances of him getting through to her were becoming slimmer by the minute. Yet still he had to try to make her see reason.

'Take the night of the ball, for example. Did you notice the way he and his wife stuck together when they made their entrance? Yes, they might've put on a show for the public, but it looked damned genuine to me. Remember how they behaved in the reception line. They had eyes only for each other, the rest of us might have well have been absent for all they would have noticed.'

She didn't move one bit. Her lips pressed together in a thin line, she glared at him. However, she didn't come up with a retort, either. Was that a good sign? Maybe he needed to become more specific.

'Whilst I agree that Greengrass was thrown into a loop when she realised you were Shacklebolt's dinner partner. However, have you once thought about Potter's reaction to that? He led her to her place, kissed her hand and caressed her cheek, Ginny. He even winked at her. He was reassuring her, Ginny! He was aware that she was upset and he very deliberately in front of all of us reassured her that he was there for her and her alone!'

She huffed and turned her head away. 'Of course, he had to do that not to make her suspicious.'

'Alright, I have another example for you. During dinner, Potter not once reacted to your attempts to flirt with him.'

'Well, it would've got him into trouble with his wife, wouldn't it? She never let him out of her sight.'

The throbbing in his temples intensified. He couldn't fight the urge any longer and raised both hands and rubbed his temples. Merlin, did she have an answer to everything? She even might've made a point, Greengrass had watched Potter all of the time. Oh, she'd been discrete about it, but he'd also been in the house of snakes and could tell the signs.

'Okay I'll concede that.' He'd rather have bitten his tongue off than to concede. At least it made her turn back and smile at him.

'Told you so.'

He held up his hand to stop her. 'Yeah, but what about his behaviour after he danced with you? Wasn't he the one to stop and talk to Wood and his wife when you tried to drag him into the garden? It looked like stalling, you know. And let us not forget that he slipped straight back to his wife's embrace when Longbottom forced you onto the dancefloor.'

Her eyes darkened. 'I'm going to have words with Neville about that one of these days. Morgana knows what he's been thinking, he never liked Slytherins, and he's my friend.'

'I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news for you, love. But while you were busy stalking Potter at the ball, I caught up with the latest gossip we'd missed during our stay in the States. Longbottom and Greengrass are cousins, and quite close it seems, and it also appears as though they have been as thick as thieves ever since Greengrass married Potter.'

'You're taking the mickey.' She'd paled at his words.

He shook his head. 'I wish I was. He and his wife are part of the very small circle of close friends the Potters have formed around them. They as a collective are the new elite in this country, Ginny. Longbottom is Potter's right hand at the Wizengamot, and your brothers are his spokesmen at Gringotts and the Ministry respectively, while Finch-Fletchley is working hand in hand with him to bring the magical economy back to the state it was in before the war. There are even whispers that their reforms will surpass the economic strength our world held in the mid eighteen hundreds.'

She huffed at that. 'Politics! As if Harry's interested in that.'

'Get real, Ginny, Potter's into politics up to his ears. Even worse, Cyrus Greengrass used his considerable political influence to aid Potter and cronies ever since Potter became a member of the Wizengamot. When he died, Greengrass inherited his seat as well as his position as the leader of the Neutral Faction. Together, Potter and Greengrass are the most influential people in magical Britain. Do you think Potter will give that up for you, a Quidditch player with no influence in magical Britain beyond the sports section of _The Prophet_?'

Her eyes threw daggers at him, and she stiffened even more, if possible. Had he gone too far?

The next moment she relaxed, threw her head back, and burst out into laughter.

His stomach dropped, and he blinked at her. Had she gone round the bend?

Her laughter stopped as sudden as it had begun. 'I never expected Harry to divorce her, silly. That'll cost him a big chunk of his gold, and we couldn't have that, could we?'

He let out a deep breath. 'I'm relieved you still think rationally. For a moment you had me there.'

She scooted closer and kissed his cheek. 'Poor baby. Don't fret that much and leave it to me to seduce Harry.'

'It won't work, Ginny. Potter won't give up everything he's worked for the last ten years for just a shag on the side.'

She flinched back and stared at him. The deep scowl had returned to her face.

'Face it, Ginny, Potter will never again become a slave to your whims. That man is deeply in love with his own wife. Remember for how long they disappeared during the ball? How he stuck by her side for the rest of the night? Or what about yesterday? He was as white as a sheet when that exploding barbecue grill almost burnt Greengrass to a crisp, and he'd eyes only for her afterwards. He never took his hands off her for the rest of the night.'

Her posture didn't change. He still hadn't gone through to her.

Like a gust of wind her stubborn attitude stoked the glowing embers of his ire about her cheating on him with Williams. He shook his head as if in deep sorrow. 'You prostituted yourself in vain with Williams, I'm afraid.'

She shot up as if bitten by a snake. 'What?' Her face morphed into an ugly sneer. 'Well, at least Morten is a wonderful lover. Hemade me come multiple times, in stark contrast to someone else I could name.'

Red, hot flames consumed him.

'_Bagascia.**'_

He raised his hand and slapped her so hard she was flung back onto the bed, and stormed out of the room without another glance at her.

_t.b.c._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Italian for "shit"
> 
> ** Italian for "whore"
> 
> both according to dict.cc. I wouldn't know, I don't speak Italian.


	8. Chapter 8

_ **The Rectory, May 17th 2008** _

Harry propped his head on his hand as he watched his still sleeping wife. She had removed the Glamour Charms on herself, and in the dim light of the early morning sun seeping into their room through the slits in the shutters her skin seemed sallow, and she had deep, black circles under her eyes.

His mouth became dry. How ill was Daphne? Her reached out with his free hand and caressed her cheek with the tip of his fingers.

She smiled in her sleep, a smile that never failed to turn his insides warm.

With a last, long gaze at his wife Harry cast a Silencing Charm on himself, slipped out of their bed and headed to the bathroom to get ready for the day. He'd let Daphne sleep as long as possible, Merlin knew she looked as if she needed it.

Thirty minutes later he sat at the desk of the study he shared with Daphne, a mug of tea next to him, and wrote a letter to Nicholas Greco. The sooner the private investigator looked into last night's incident, the better. This was not an investigation for the Auror Department; the suspects would put the blame on the Potter house elves, and because of that the case would be closed within a few days. However, this wasn't an accident; someone had deliberately tried to harm Daphne again, and that wouldn't be allowed to stand.

He sealed the letter, called Matty and told her to deliver the letter. On his way downstairs he peeked into the bedroom. Daphne was still sound asleep. With nothing else to do, he decided to take a stroll through the gardens.

Nothing had remained from yesterday's party, even the huge tent was already gone. The elves must've cast Regrowing Charms on the lawn, not a single blade of paler or trampled grass indicated to the spot where the tent had been. He took the path that circled the border of the park beyond the formal gardens next to the house towards the orchard and led from there back to the Apparition point in front of the gates to the main house.

He'd just stepped out of the orchard when the chiming of the ward bell announced the arrival of Nicholas Greco.

He gave Harry a guarded look. 'Mr Potter.'

Harry couldn't blame him for his reticence. Cyrus had employed Greco on a regular base; his late father-in-law had hoarded knowledge about anyone he ever had to deal with. In spite of what he'd been through in his childhood and early youth, he hadn't developed Cyrus' level of paranoia. Neither had Daphne, so they didn't have as much use for Greco as Cyrus had had, although they still came back to him for things like the investigation into the financial background of new business contacts, or possible former Death Eater connections in case of a magical business.

'Thank you for coming on such short notice, Mr Greco, and on a Sunday morning to boot.' He shook hands with Greco, ushered him across the private patio towards the French doors that led into the breakfast room, and held the door open for him.

Daphne sat at the table, a cup of tea in front of her, and nibbled at a slice of dry toast, though she didn't look as if she was enjoying her frugal meal. On the contrary, she looked as if she was going to throw it and everything else in her stomach up at any second.

He cringed; what was wrong with her? And why in the world didn't she sleep in? Now he was going to be forced to include her into his meeting with Greco, and that wasn't something he liked at all, at least not as long as Daphne wasn't feeling well. He suppressed a rueful smile, he'd better not let her know the latter; she'd give him a piece of her mind if she ever found out he was trying to shelter her.

She looked up at the sound of the opening door; a slight frown appeared on her face when she recognised Greco, that was replaced immediately by a smile of welcome. She stood up and greeted the investigator, though she cast a quick, confused side glance at Harry.

'Let's sit down in the family room. This is going to be a nasty business, so we as well can be comfortable,' Harry said.

Daphne stepped beside him, her eyebrows drawn together, and took his arm. 'What has happened?' she asked in a low voice.

He put his arm around her waist and propelled her into the family room. 'You'll find out in a minute, darling.'

She gave him a quick side glance with raised eyebrows and pursed lips, and sat down beside him without another comment.

Harry asked Matty to bring fresh tea and biscuits, and then launched into a tale about the incident next to the barbecue grill. Greco became rigid when he described his findings in regards to the lighting gel, and Daphne let out a small gasp.

'Why didn't you tell me last night?'

He took her hand and gave it a small squeeze. 'You were already sound asleep, darling.'

She looked as if she was going to comment on that, yet decided otherwise, pressed her lips into a thin line, and gave him a sidewards glance that indicated they'd talk later.

Greco pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers, a deep frown on his face. 'This incident bears an alarming similarity to the incident five years ago, when Mrs Potter was poisoned, doesn't it? The MO is the same, I'd say, and quite a lot of the suspects of the last incident were on the scene as well, just to name Pince, Cadwallader and Williams.'

Daphne startled and let out a small gasp.

Harry put his arm around her and gave Greco a short nod, his lips pressed together. 'That also caught my attention, Mr Greco. Abbott and Pyke were also there.'

Greco crossed his legs and rubbed his chin with one hand. 'We've done a thorough investigation at that time and came up empty. Especially Cadwallader and Williams both had a spotless reputation.'

'Yes. Too spotless, if you ask me,' Harry said. He leaned forward and propped his elbows on his thighs. 'Even Pince, the old bore, had a ticket or two for raising hell at the _Leaky Cauldron _when he was drunk as a young man, Head Auror Weasley found out.' He straightened and shook his head. 'We can't afford not to investigate Malfoy and his cronies, either. Even though I don't share Head Auror Weasley's suspicions regarding Lucius Malfoy, I can't deny that the Malfoy angle potentially stands out in this incident. Nott is Draco Malfoy's best friend, Davis is his lawyer who bailed him out of Azkaban again and again, and McLaggen is his business partner in one of his respectable businesses.'

He let out a deep sigh. 'I want you to look into everyone who was there. Turn every stone, Mr Greco. I'm tired of all the "accidents" that have happened to Daphne and me. I've denied what was right in front of my nose for too long. This has to come to an end.'

Greco pulled a notepad and biro out of the pocket of his Muggle suit. 'Alright, Mr Potter, who was on the patio when the incident happened?'

Harry enumerated the people he'd seen with the help of the fingers of his hand. 'Director McLean, his deputy, Patterson, Cadwallader and Williams, all employees of Crystal Fairy's. They chatted with Daphne when she was called by Mipsy. At another table there were former Director Pince, Director Abbott, and Pyke. They talked to a wizard who had his back to me; he seemed somewhat familiar, but I can't come up with a name.'

'That was Shane Procter. He's second in command to Elias Frudge, the owner of the chain of American laboratories where we produce the potions for the U.S. market,' Daphne said.

Greco's eyebrows rose at that. 'Wasn't Frudge present at the incident in the laboratory at Crystal Fairy's?'

Harry nodded. 'So were the former co-owners of his business. However, Frudge was appalled of their connections to the Pureblood supremacist movement that came out into the light when you investigated the Crogans five years ago, and he bought them out. Procter joined the company somewhere around that time.'

'I don't believe in happenstance,' Greco said, and jotted down another line on his notepad. He looked up. 'Who else?'

'Ginny, her agent, Theodore Nott, Draco Malfoy and his wife, Sophie, Roger Davis, Cormac McLaggen and his wife, Pansy McLaggen-Parkinson,' Harry said.

Greco let out a small whistle. 'That's quite a list; how many on it harbour a grudge against you or your wife, Mr Potter?'

Harry and Daphne shared a look, and broke out into a mirthless laughter.

'Too many, if you ask me,' Harry said. 'Though, you can probably scratch off McLaine, Patterson, and Ginny's agent. Neither Daphne nor I ever butted heads with any of them.'

Daphne shifted in her seat. 'That's not true, honey. I had an unpleasant encounter with Ginny's agent at the Veterans Ball.'

Harry turned towards his wife with a raised eyebrow. 'You never told me about that.'

'He basically told me not to stand into Ginny's way as she tried to get you back, or -.' She broke up and bit her lips.

'Or what, darling?' Harry gave her a sharp look from under his eyebrows. 'You'd better tell me, it might be important.'

'I might be mistaken, but it seemed to me he threatened to kill me,' she said in a very low voice. 'He said something about obstacles in Ginny's way that are disposable, and then he added it would be a shame about a beautiful woman like me.'

Harry's chest tightened, and he froze. He put his arm around Daphne and pulled her close. He'd be damned if he let that bastard get at Daphne. Aloud he said, 'I'm sorry you had to put up with him, darling. You should've told me about his threat immediately.'

Greco cleared his throat. 'You ought to know, Mr Potter, that your late father-in-law asked me to investigate Ms Weasley's background about ten years ago, shortly before your marriage to Mrs Potter. Ms Weasley was supposed to be your steady girlfriend back then.'

A jolt went through Harry. He startled, gaped at Greco for a short moment, and let out a small laugh. 'Why am I surprised by that? I should've known; it's so typical Cyrus, isn't it?'

'Cyrus was a very thorough man who liked to know with whom he had to deal,' Greco said.

Daphne snorted. 'That's putting it mildly.'

Harry gave the private investigator a hard stare. 'What did you find out, Mr Greco? I doubt you mentioned that investigation just because our talk triggered a memory.'

Greco shifted in his seat, and his eyes didn't meet Harry's. 'Well, I found out that Ms Weasley was seeing someone else beside you, Mr Potter. I'm sorry to tell you she had an affair with her agent. On Cyrus' orders I continued observing her through my U.S. contact until the time of Mr Cyrus' death. The affair lasted at least until then, even though she had been married for three times over the years.'

Something seemed to lift of Harry's chest. So, his suspicions had been right all along, and Ginny had served him a brazen lie all those years ago in the orchard of _The Burrow. _Merlin, he'd been naïve beyond tolerable back then, hadn't he? He let out a deep breath and shook his head. 'I always suspected that much, though I never had proof. Thanks for telling me, Mr Greco. Another skeleton from the closet of my teenage years I can bury, at last.'

Daphne hadn't moved through his exchange with Greco, nor showed any other sign of surprise. He turned to his wife. 'You knew?'

She bit her lips, a slight pink tinge on her cheeks, and nodded. 'Father told me in June, before we got married, and even before he … suggested that idea to you. I never knew how to bring it up between us. I'm so sorry, honey.'

He hugged her to himself. 'No need for that, darling. You were in an awkward position. Besides that, it doesn't matter anymore.' He let out another short laugh and cast his eyes heavenwards. 'I never thought I'd say it aloud, Cyrus, you old bastard, but thanks for saving me from the clutches of a gold digger.'

That broke the tension; they laughed, and Greco put away the notepad and the biro. He got up from his seat. 'I'm going to do a background check on everyone you mentioned, Mr Potter, Ms Weasley and her agent included, and will come back to you as soon as possible.'

He made his goodbyes, and Harry let him out of the door.

When he returned to the living room, he found Daphne turning her empty tea mug in her hands over and over again, and staring into space. She startled when he sat down beside her.

He put an arm around her shoulder and gave her a small hug. 'A Knut for your thoughts.'

Daphne leaned her head against his shoulder and said in a quiet voice, 'Did you know that I prepared myself for you continuing your relationship with Ginny? I never would've said a word about it, you know.'

His stomach fluttered, and he blinked. Why would she have tolerated such a despicable behaviour from him? Aloud he said, 'That's what she wanted me to do. She offered it, twice, you know.'

His wife raised her head and looked at him with big eyes. 'And you declined?' she asked, disbelief and incredulity evident in her voice.

He let out an embarrassed laugh. 'Of course I did. Mind you, darling, I'm not a saint, however, Ginny's offer seemed like a sure recipe for disaster to me. Arthur talked to me the night after I had told the Weasleys my decision to accept Cyrus' … uh…' He coughed. 'To accept Cyrus' generous offer. He said to give you … us … a chance and find out what we could be. I think that maybe following his advice was the smartest thing I have ever done in my life.'

Harry put both arms around his wife. Her eyes never left his face; there was a light in them that touched something deep inside of him and made his heart beat faster.

'You are the most important person in my life, Daphne. I couldn't go on without you. However, nothing of what we have would have happened, had I agreed to Ginny's offer, don't you think? That had the potential to make all three of us extremely unhappy; I couldn't do that.' He tightened his embrace around her. 'Looking back from where we are today, I made the right decision; we've come a long way, don't you agree?'

The strange light in her eyes intensified, and she gave him a blinding smile. 'Absolutely.'

* * *

_ **London, May 18th 2008** _

Harry walked down the steps of the entrance of the London Chamber of Commerce and Industry, his briefcase in one hand and his coat over his arm, and looked on his wristwatch. When he'd Apparated into a safe spot that morning, it had still been chilly, and he had needed the coat. During the long hours of the meeting he had just attended, however, the sun had come out to play, and now it was almost as warm as in summer.

Should he call a black cab to get back to headquarters, or walk the short distance? Daphne wouldn't be there, anyway, she had taken a day off to let herself being pampered at Lavender's Beauty Parlour. Hopefully it would help her recuperate from the stress of preparing a huge garden party on short notice. Lunch at headquarters without Daphne wasn't fun; he'd better walk the short distance, some exercise never hurt, and grab a sandwich on the way.

His mind made up, he adjusted his cloak and his briefcase and walked into the direction of headquarters. He didn't pay much heed to his surroundings while he walked in a brisk pace and recapitulated the events of this morning's meeting. Without any doubt Daphne would be pleased by the outcome, they both had -

'Harry! What a nice surprise!'

A familiar voice interrupted his thoughts. His stomach dropped, and he gritted his teeth and suppressed a groan.

Ginny!

Why by Merlin's unmentionables had he to run into her, of all people, in a city as big as London? He didn't bother to mask his annoyance when he turned around and looked down at her beaming face; after all, she hadn't left out a single opportunity to vex him ever since she had returned to England.

'Ginny. What brings you here?'

She wasn't fazed in the slightest by his curtness. Instead, she grabbed his arm, snuggled against him, and gave him a sultry smile. 'I've just finished a photo shooting for Crystal Fairy and was looking for a place to have lunch. What a good fortune I ran into you; I hate having lunch on my own.'

What a good fortune? She must be taking the mickey, he couldn't think of anything less fortunate. However, by the way she beamed up at him, she meant every word. Merlin, what had got into her? By now she must have noticed he had no interest in her.

She snuggled even closer, and he suppressed an exasperated groan and tried to get some space. No chance there, apparently subtle signs weren't Ginny's strong point.

He took a deep breath to center himself. He didn't like what he'd have to do right now, however, all the years of working in the management of Crystal Fairy's, first under Cyrus and now as the C.E.O., had taught him that sometimes it was necessary to deliver a crushing blow. Ginny needed to hear a few truths, however, he owed it to Molly and Arthur to be as gentle as possible about that.

He disentangled himself from her and grabbed her by the elbow. 'Splendid idea. Let's grab some takeaway and sit down somewhere to talk.'

'Wonderful!' She almost purred and tried to get closer once again. Merlin, she was as bad as the Giant Squid with all of its arms. He was lucky his hand around her elbow prevented her from snuggling up to him.

With an inward shake of his head, Harry led her across the street to a Chinese takeaway. The boxes with food and drinks in their hands, they walked to a bench in the middle of a small park around the corner. They were on show for the passersby, which suited him just fine; there was no way he'd have lunch with Ginny in a secluded corner; he'd probably have to fight for his virtue during the whole meal. He waited until she had sat down, and took a place as far from her as possible.

As if on cue, a pout appeared on her face, and she scooted closer. 'Why so distant, Harry?'

At least he'd had the good sense to put his briefcase and coat between him and Ginny, or she'd by now be sitting on his lap. That would go over well with Daphne, if she ever found out. He let his wand slip out an inch of the holster on his arm and cast a Privacy Ward around them. Merlin only knew how Ginny's Weasley temper would react to what he had to say.

'You know I'm married, Ginny; I don't want anyone to get the wrong impression.'

She laughed that nerve-grating laugh of hers. 'As if you care! I was there when you told us you had to marry her, remember? You've been blackmailed into that marriage of yours by her father.'

He opened the box; the fragrance of chicken and noodles covered in a spicy sauce hit his nostrils, and his stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. Would he be able to get something of that down? His stomach had always reacted sensitive to his emotions, and there was no denying that Ginny was getting at him. He took a tentative forkful, chewed and swallowed, and said, 'That may be true; but that doesn't mean I don't care for Daphne feelings or our marriage.'

She froze, her fork, heaped with vegetables and rice, hovered above the box, and she gaped at him for a long moment. The next second her face was all smiles. 'You prat; you almost had me fooled there. Of course you don't care for her; after all, Potter men fall in love only once in their lives and at a very young age. There's no way you care for Greengrass, since you're already in love with me.' She turned back to her meal and put the fork into her mouth.

Harry choked at the bite he just swallowed and got a coughing fit. He was what? Merlin, had she become a potion addict during her time in the U.S.A. and lost her sense for reality? He took a sip of his coke, and croaked, 'Please tell me that you're taking the mickey.'

The look she gave him over the rim of her box before she took the next bite reminded him of Hermione when he and Ron had tried her patience. 'Of course not. You know that it's true.'

'It's not.' He shook his head at her and lowered the box with his lunch into his lap. 'I'm most definitely not in love with you, Ginny.' What was that about people always assuming he was capable of loving someone? First Dumbledore, now Ginny … Merlin, he'd never known love while he grew up, how was he supposed to know how to love someone?

_And what about Daphne? _a small voice in his head piped up, yet was drowned out by Ginny's next words.

'I really don't know why you're still trying to keep up appearances with Greengrass, Harry. Sirius told me everything about how your father fell in love with your mother in his third year. He said you're just like your father, you were also without fail going to fall in love with a redhead at a very young age. And that's what you did; you fell in love with me.'

'Sirius told you that?' He barely refrained from rolling his eyes. He shouldn't be surprised about that, Sirius had been very fond of the Firewhisky in those days, and clung to the nostalgic memories of a past that never would come back.

She took another bite of rice and vegetables and nodded.

'Well, you shouldn't have believed him. He was wrong.'

Her head jerked around to him and sent her hair flying over one shoulder. 'What?'

'Sirius was wrong,' he repeated. 'I'm not a clone of my father, Ginny. I might look like him, but I'm my own person, you know. Sirius, on the other hand, always saw me as a reincarnation of the best friend he'd lost, I'm afraid. Sad, but true, Sirius knew too little about me to see me for who I really was.'

His appetite had deserted him, and he dumped the box with the remaining food in it into the trash bin next to the bench and picked up his can of coke. 'I don't deny I … cared for you when Cyrus hatched his despicable plan and forced me to marry Daphne. Your father, Ginny, advised me to give Daphne and me a chance. It was the best advice I ever got. It only took a week of our honeymoon for me to discover that Daphne is a very special woman.'

Ginny gave a derisive snort at that. 'She opened her legs for you. That doesn't make her special, Harry. Any hooker could've done that for you.'

He tensed; his head jerked around, his hand clenched around the can until it crackled, and he gave her a cold, hard stare. 'You'd better not talk about my wife like that ever again, Ginny. I wasn't talking about sex. The first week of our honeymoon I spent in hospital, to be treated with the _Renouvellement _Potion. Daphne never left my side. Did you know that the _Renouvellement _Potion requires a witch or wizard to act as your anchor in this life while you're under the effects? Daphne acted as my anchor, and she kept me from falling down the abyss and dying more than once during the week my treatment lasted. She learned a lot about me during that time, things I rather would've kept to myself. I wasn't pleased when I found out; Daphne at once offered a magical oath to me that she'd keep my secrets.'

'Of course she would. I bet she worded it in a way that she can get around it anytime,' Ginny said with another derisive snort, and flipped her hair over her shoulder. 'After all, she is a Slytherin.' She put another forkful of her lunch into her mouth.

'I refused the oath.'

Ginny's head flew around. She stopped chewing and swallowed. 'What? I never thought you'd be that foolish.'

'I refused the oath. Instead, I decided to trust her, and she has never betrayed me. That's what our marriage is based on, mutual trust and affection. But you wouldn't understand that, would you, Ginny?'

She let her fork drop into the remaining rice and vegetables in the small box on her lap. Her shoulders drooped, and her chin quivered slightly. 'No, I wouldn't know. I never experienced something like that in all of my marriages. They were nothing but an attempt to get over you, Harry. Needless to say I failed each time.'

Harry clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding together he threw his can of coke into the waste bin and crossed his arms in front of his chest. So, she still tried to feed him that load of dragon dung about her pining after him, even after all these years. How dumb did she think him?

Heat welled up in him, and he took a deep breath to center himself. The lunch hour was not yet over, and the small park was crowded with professionals from the surrounding businesses. As C.E.O. of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products, one of the biggest British companies still in private hands, his face was well known in Muggle business circles, and many a curious glance had been cast at Ginny and him ever since they sat down on the bench in the middle of the park. If he let his temper get the better of him, that would make rounds in no time. Cyrus had taught him better than that.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment and listened to the birds chirping in the trees around him the roaring traffic on the streets surrounding the park didn't manage to drown out completely. A whiff of cut grass reached his nostrils, reminding him of yesterday's walk through the park and along the adjoining meadow with Daphne, and his anger faded away.

A touch on his arm brought him back to reality. He opened his eyes and turned his head.

Ginny had extracted her arm over the barrier of his briefcase and coat he had put between them, and her eyes burned at him with a fire he had once mistaken as a sign of her affection for him. 'You can't deny we were good together, Harry. We will be good together once again.'

'We were teenager back then, Ginny. We worked reasonably well for a couple of weeks, but I doubt we would have lasted much longer.'

She jerked her hand back as if he had hit her. 'No … No, how can you say something like that?'

Harry let out a sigh and unfolded his arms. Despite his anger about her, this was harder than he'd thought. 'Actually, it was your father who got me thinking. He said hardly anyone ends marrying their first girlfriend. Most couples are still very young at that time and tend to grow apart and in different directions. Arthur pointed out to me and highlighted that this was already happening to us. What he said was accurate too, you thought about nothing more than Quidditch, while I had already dipped a toe into the shark pool of politics. Arthur doubted that you would be willing or able to support me there.'

Ginny tilted her head to the side and looked at him, her eyebrows gathered in a deep frown. 'You? Politics? You're taking the mickey, Harry.'

Harry shook his head. 'I'm not, and you've just confirmed your father's assumptions about you were correct, Ginny. You obviously have no idea of what I'm doing, as your incredulous question just betrayed. Ever since the end of the Battle of Hogwarts I have wanted to change magical Britain. Your father told me that my victory over Voldemort put me into a position of influence like Dumbledore had held in his time. I decided that I wanted to use my influence, and I'd started with that even before they offered me a seat on the Wizengamot. However, I couldn't have done it alone, without Daphne's support I wouldn't have achieved anywhere close to what I have managed so far, and I still have so much that needs changing. I doubt you could have done the same.'

Again, she reached out with her hand and pressed his arm. 'Of course I could have. Don't you know I would've done anything for you, silly? I still will. How difficult can it be to smile at a couple of reporters? It's what I do all the time.'

He gave her another shake of his head. 'It's not as simple as that. Besides, even though my reputation is larger than life in the wizarding world, I doubt it would've survived the gossip about my wife cuckolding me'

A miniscule flicker went across her face, and she shifted in her seat ever so slightly. 'Your perfect Pureblood wife has been cheating on you, Harry? Well, I'm not sorry about that. One reason more to leave her, I'd say.'

He grinded his teeth, and his lips flattened into a thin line. 'Stop it, Ginny. You know it wasn't Daphne who cheated on me. Did you really think I'd never find out about your ongoing affair with your Slytherin lover? What's his name again … Blaise? What are your plans, Ginny? Am I supposed to become your husband number five before you ditch me in another couple of years? That surely would be the biggest catch you've made so far and add a nice sum to your coffers, wouldn't it?'

Her face had turned crimson. 'How… how do you dare?'

Harry let out a derisive snort. 'Oh, quite easily. After all, you're the one who prostituted herself for the gold.'

'You have no right to look down on me, Harry Potter; you are the one who left me without any protection and went out on adventure with my brother and his girlfriend.' The knuckles of her hands stood out white from her balled fists, her face was a crimson mask of fury, and she trembled all over her body.

His body tensed once again. She had the audacity to put the blame for her screwed up decisions in life on him? Well, that would've worked with his teenage self; he'd been conditioned by the Dursleys to take on the blame for anything bad that happened. However, first the _Renouvellement _Potion and later years of loving support from Daphne had taught him to change his attitude. Ginny was going to find out about that right now.

'The guilt trip won't work, Ginny. I did everything I could manage back then to keep you safe. Unfortunately, it wasn't much. You'll never know how much that hurt me. But answer me this Ginny, how was I supposed to help you when I was being hunted like an animal, whilst I tried to find the means to destroy Voldemort?'

Her posture didn't change. 'You could have, had you really tried. After all, you're the Chosen One.'

He laughed, though there was no trace of mirth in it. 'Ah, and now we're finally coming to the important part. It's taken me a while to understand this, but you, Ginny, never saw me as a human being. All you wanted, all you saw was the Boy-Who-Lived, the fame and the gold that came with the silly moniker.' He stood up, gathered his briefcase and coat, and turned to her for a last time. 'You know what, I'm glad for Cyrus' interference that forced me to break up with you. A marriage to you would've been hell. At least Daphne always saw me as just Harry. She's my partner in so many ways and stands by my side supporting me in ways that you never could've done.' He looked down at her with a long hard stare.

She gaped, the crimson of her face had given way to a greyish pallor. Her mouth moved, as if she was going to talk, but no sound came out.

He gave her another hard stare. 'Goodbye, Ginny, if I see you again it will be too soon.'

With that, he turned around, stepped into the thick brushes behind the bench, and Apparated away without a sound.

_t.b.c._


	9. Chapter 9

_ **London, May 18th 2008** _

The black cab dropped her off not far from the Dorchester Hotel on Park Lane. Ginny looked up at the façade of the tall, sprawling red brick building in front of her and suppressed a whistle. This was one of London's most sought after residential buildings. Morten Williams must be much better off than she'd originally thought.

She ran her fingers up the smooth balustrade that matched the marble stairs that she walked up, admiring the beauty as they opened into an opulent reception hall. A fountain threw tinkling rays of water into the air; the melodious sound was the only noise that could be heard in the rotund room.

Someone cleared their throat behind her; startled, she whirled around.

The concierge desk was well hidden in a niche at the side of the room. A middle aged man in a dark blue uniform with golden accents looked at her, an apologising smile on his unremarkable features. 'I'm sorry I startled you, madam. To whom may I announce you, Ms...?'

'Weasley, Ginny Weasley. I have an appointment with Mr Williams.'

The concierge gave her another smile, picked up the receiver of the phone in front of him, and dialed.

'Mr Williams? Robert from reception here. A Ms Weasley has arrived to see you. Shall I send her up? ….Ah very good, yes sir, right away.'

He put down the receiver, walked out from behind his desk, ushered Ginny towards an elevator beyond the fountain, and pressed the button. 'Mr Williams lives on the eighth floor,' he told her when a discreet _ping _announced the arrival of the elevator.

Ginny stepped into the gilded, thick-carpeted cabin and pressed the button for the eighth floor. The sense of opulence prevailed when she reached her destination. A thick oriental carpet covered the marble floor of the hallway, and genuine oil paintings adorned the walls. In front of her, a dark, tall oak door marked the entrance of Morten's apartment.

Her breath caught; no potions master, no matter how skilled he was, could afford such a splendor from his wages. No, Morten must come from gold. Lots and lots of gold.

She sneered; perhaps he was even better suited to her plans than she'd thought. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she clenched her teeth until her jaw hurt. Who did Harry think he was? No-one would be allowed to bin her like that! It would've been much easier on him had he given in to her seducing him, he genuinely would've enjoyed his time with her, at least at first, before she had set her final plan into motion. Now, however, she would make him suffer, she'd skip right to the second part: stripping Harry of his reputation and as much of his gold as possible. With a good looking, rich husband - albeit number five - on her arm she would have the right leverage to gain access to the circles the Potters moved in, and then -.

She interrupted her irate thoughts, now was not the time for this. She calmed herself and an angelic smile appeared around her lips, just in time with the door opening and interrupting her thoughts.

Morten answered the door himself, a broad smile on his face. 'Ginny! I've missed you.' His arms reached out for her, he pulled her into a tight hug, and the next moment his lips crushed down on hers.

Mmh, he knew how to kiss a woman. Not to mention he was every bit the accomplished lover his fit physique suggested he should be. She was going to enjoy this marriage as long as it lasted.

He pulled her into the entrance hall of his apartment. She caught a glimpse of a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and a marble floor, inlaid with a mosaic made of tiny golden tiles picturing a star, before she was already ushered into a small reception room. Well, small for the standard of this apartment; the room was at least five by six yards. However, an open door on her left side offered a view on another reception room that was more than two times as big, and furnished with huge sofas, glass tables, and at least three crystal chandeliers.

A warm glow spread in her stomach, and she moistened her lips. This grandeur was on the same scale as _Stinchcombe Hall_. Yes, Morten would do nicely.

She stepped towards the windows that overlooked Hyde Park. 'What a fantastic view.'

Morten still was close to her, an arm wrapped around her shoulder. 'It is, isn't it? I never get tired of it.'

A comfortable upholstered leather chair in front of the window with a bar set up next to it in an antique cabin trunk made it believable this was his favourite place.

He pointed towards the bar. 'Why don't you make yourself comfortable, sweetie, while I take a shower? I'm sorry, I just returned from work.' His nose crinkled slightly as he continued, 'We worked with Stinksap today, and I'm afraid I am a little smelly.'

She sniffed slightly and scrunched up her nose a little in a way most man found adorable. Morten was no exception: his eyes softened, and his smile became even broader. 'No problem, sweetheart. Although I have to agree you smell a trifle … ripe.'

He laughed, gave her a peck on the nose, and left for his shower.

Ginny waited until his footsteps had faded away, then turned around and inspected her surroundings more closely. This was a luxurious man cave, there was no doubt about it. The leather armchair in front of the window was complimented by a matching sofa in front of the fireplace, and a huge television screen was mounted over the fireplace.

She pursed her lips at that. From her ten years in the States she knew that American wizards and witches blended in with the Muggle world way better than their British counterparts. The Statute of Secrecy was observed much stricter over there, and each transgression was punished with a hefty fee, if not worse. As a result, the American magical population had learned to blend in seamlessly; they lived among Muggles, and at a first glance their homes didn't look much different than those of their Muggle neighbours, although everything in their houses operated on magic.

That was all good and well, however, she'd never got used to that. They weren't like Muggles, so that should reflect in their way of life, shouldn't it? That servile mimicry of the Muggle way of life for reasons of secrecy somehow felt wrong.

Ginny shrugged her shoulders letting the thought fall by the wayside and continued inspecting the room. A huge desk in one corner of the room indicated that Morten actually worked here; it was covered with papers, and the bookcases at the two walls behind the desk contained quite a few ledgers.

Her curiosity got the better of her; and she inched closer to the desk and craned her neck to have a look at the papers. There were a lot of bills, and a couple of vault statements from Gringotts. The numbers on them made her eyes bulge. Perhaps she should reconsider her plans, he was as good a catch as Harry, maybe even better.

A glint of gold among the papers caught her eye. She lifted the papers that obscured the paper with the golden letters from her view, careful, as not to disturb their order, and read.

_City of Salem_

_Certificate of Birth_

_Alexander Dorian Carrington, 01-04-1976_

_Mother: Elizabeth Suzannah Carrington_

_Father: Dorian Albion Greengrass_

A door shut somewhere deeper in the apartment, and there was the noise of footsteps on the marble floor.

She let go of the papers as if they were on fire, and tiptoed to the window as fast as possible. Her back to the door, she looked out on Hyde Park, a frown on her face.

Alexander Dorian Carrington - she had heard that name before, but where? And why in the world was his birth certificate on Morten's desk?

_t.b.c._


	10. Chapter 10

_ **London, May 18th 2008** _

The proximity alarm he'd cast on his desk went off when he was just shrugging in his shirt.

He chuckled to himself at how well he had read her. She was a nosy little bitch, but this was a good thing; he'd known she wouldn't have the decency not to look over his personal papers. It was easy enough to manipulate her, allowing her to find what he wanted her to find in that unsightly mess.

He had just finished buttoning the shirt when the secondary alarm sounded, alerting him to the fact that she had picked some of the papers up. 'Shit!' He'd been a fool to think the vault statement he'd placed so carefully on top of the pile would be enough to satisfy her curiosity; he didn't think there was stuff on his desk that would be incriminating or hard to explain, but he couldn't remember for sure, given he had staged that little display several days ago, even before the promotional party.

This had worked so much better than his original plan which would have relied on luck giving him an opportunity to get Weasley interested in him via a mild Confundus Charm, this would have then allowed him to slip her a mild Love Potion later that night, before taking her to his apartment. Thanks to Potter's accommodating house elf he'd been given an opening to make a move on her without magical intervention, which was even better. It made up for the failure of his impromptu plan to exchange the Muggle lighting gel with ethanol. He scowled; who would've thought that Potter would be able to Summon his wife out of the jet of flame just in time from that distance?

He grinned to himself. There was no doubt Weasley would swallow the bait he'd left, as greedy as she was. Well, he wasn't averse to lashing out for his … pleasure, at least not in case of a high-quality whore like Weasley. Some jewelry would do, it always did, he'd just have to hope that she wouldn't get a chance to delve too deeply into other stuff.

After all, she'd cooperated nicely so far. She'd given in to his Imperius Curse at once, and the information she'd provided about Potter and his whore, though outdated, shed some light on their characters that would be useful for future attacks, not to mention what she had revealed about her regular meetings with Potter whenever he was in the U.S.A.. He cast a look at the hidden safe in his dressing room, and the grin on his face broadened. It had been easy to "persuade" her to part with the evidence she had accumulated, which he was now sure would come in handy one day to discredit the fairy tale couple.

It also had been no problem to Obliviate Weasley afterwards, and they had spent the rest of the night together in a most pleasant way until he left her in the early morning to get some sleep.

Her connection to the Potters through the long friendship between her older brothers to the couple would also be useful, he was sure.

He finished dressing quickly and walked back to his study with loud, deliberate steps.

She stood in front of the window and looked out on Hyde Park when he entered the room. At the sound of his steps she turned around and smiled at him. 'You are right, one never tires of the view.'

He crossed the distance towards her, put his arm around her shoulders, and looked deep into her eyes. 'I think I've found something to look at that fascinates me even more.'

She giggled, a sound that grated on his nerves. Despite that, the smile stayed on his face, thanks to Mother's stern discipline in social customs. Who would've thought he actually would be thanking the old hag for the many times she'd put him under the Torture Curse whenever he dared to show his true feelings in public?

'Flatterer.'

'Not at all.' He bent his head to kiss her. That would shut her up, and at least give him some entertainment.

However, a pecking sound on the window pane interrupted them. He looked up.

A small barn owl perched on the window sill, a letter tied to one leg, and looked at them with beady, black eyes out of its heart-shaped, pale face. He suppressed a shudder and opened the window. The steady unblinking eyes of the bird gave him the creeps.

He held out his hand, however, the bird ignored him and flew right towards Ginny and held its leg out.

Ginny took the letter with a frown. 'I wonder who's writing me at this time of the day.' She gave the owl a tender pat on the head. 'Thank you. I'm sorry, I don't have any owl treats with me.'

The owl gave her a withering look, let out an ear-piercing shriek, and flew out of the window.

He laughed and shut the window. 'I guess we're not its favourite humans right now.'

'I guess you're right.' Her voice sounded distracted. She opened the seal on the letter and read it. The furrow between her brows became deeper by the minute. At length, she lowered the letter and looked up to him. 'I'm so sorry, sweetheart, but I'll have to go. Something with the photo shooting this morning went wrong, and they have to repeat a couple of pictures.' She folded the letter and stuffed it into the small purse she carried over her shoulder on one strap.

He suppressed a cuss word that came unbidden to his lips. That was unfortunate, even though he was sure she'd swallowed the bait, he still needed to haul her in. He put his arms around her and gave her a small peck on the nose. 'I admire your sense of duty, sweetie. Of course you'll have to go. When will I see you again?'

She slung her arms around his neck. 'What about dinner at my place? We'll be quite undisturbed there.' The last words were accompanied by a sultry look.

Perfect. He bent down and gave her a passionate kiss. 'You've got a date, sweetie.'

He walked her to the door, and then returned to his study. His eye fell on the cabin trunk. He still had a couple of hours left before he needed to recast the Imperius Curse on his … permanent guest. However, he needed to do it before he left for _Stinchcombe Hall, _there was a good chance he'd be spending the night there.

His eyes fell on the mess on his desk. It was so unlike him; he hated chaos. Of course, it had been necessary to trap the girl. He pulled his wand out of his pocket, and with a muttered incantation the scattered papers sorted themselves into neat stacks.

He walked to the desk to put them into their assigned places. His eyes fell onto a single sheet of parchment with golden lettering. The air left his lungs as if a giant's fist had hit him midriff, and a deadly cold spread from his stomach all over his body. Merlin be damned, how did his birth certificate get among the papers he'd laid out so carefully for Ginny? How could he have made such a blunder, he, who prided himself for maintaining his cover for years?

He took a laboured breath. Had she seen it?

A harsh laugh escaped his lips. Of course she had, after all, she'd snooped in his papers and set off the secondary Alarm Charm he'd placed on them that would tell him when she had swallowed the bait.

Would she realise the implications?

He worried his lips with his teeth. Not immediately, that much was sure, she wasn't the brightest chandelier in the room, and like so many other wizards and witches logical thinking was beyond her.

However, there was a big chance she'd blab about what she'd seen, blab about it to the wrong people. Her brother was an Auror, and too many members of her family were very close to the Potters.

He couldn't afford to let his cover been blown like this. He had to do something about her. But what?

He let out a harsh laugh. The answer was obvious, wasn't it?

He'd have to … take care of her and soon.

_t.b.c._


	11. Chapter 11

_ **Lavender's Beauty Parlour, May 18th 2008** _

Daphne let out her maybe fiftieth contented sigh for the morning, her face still pressed into the soft cushion of the table, and wondered again if there was anything better than a full body massage to recover from stress.

Lavender took her hands away. 'I'm finished. Times have been pretty stressful for you lately, huh? You were rather tense.'

Daphne arched herself up like a cat, grateful for the full range of motion in her back and shoulders once more. She gave a couple more twists, stretching out the last kinks, before she got up and wrapped herself into a lavender coloured terry cloth bathrobe. 'Well, I've had a lot of work lately, what with Harry being on the Continent, and then we had the Crystal Fairy promotional party.'

'Yes, I imagine,' Lavender said. '... and then there's Ginny.'

Daphne bit her lip and averted her eyes without answering. She wasn't going to discuss Ginny Weasley with Lavender: she hadn't been called the Queen of Gossip at Hogwarts because she was known for her discretion. Her beauty parlour was frequented by almost all the young, affluent witches of their generation, and it had garnered an excellent reputation for the beauty treatment she and Parvati offered, but was also notorious for being magical Britain's headquarters for all gossip.

She followed Lavender into the relaxation room, laid down on one of the lavish daybeds, and closed her eyes. The soothing fragrance of lavender and thyme wafted over her: in the interim as she willed herself to keep relaxing, Lavender had put a cup of tea on the small table beside her, and left the room. She opened her eyes, picked up the cup, and took a tentative sip of the hot beverage. Mmmh, delicious; Lavender had obviously remembered how she took her tea and put a spoonful of honey into it.

She let her eyes wander through the sparsely, yet tastefully decorated room whilst she sipped her tea and allowed its warmth to sooth her insides. Lavender's Beauty Parlour had become an oasis for stressed out women, be it from the demands of raising energetic toddlers, or working long hours as a career witch: they all found their way here. She really ought to take the time to visit more frequently; Harry wouldn't mind …

Harry! A big smile appeared on her face she couldn't - no, wouldn't - hide. Ever since their talk after Nicholas Greco had left yesterday morning she'd walked around like she was on cloud nine. Even though he still hadn't said those three magical words, he had as good as admitted that he loved her.

'_You are the most important person in my life, Daphne. I couldn't go on without you.'_

Really, it hadn't been so much what he'd said, no, it had all been in the way he'd looked at her. There had been a time when she'd thought she'd be happy if he looked at her the way he'd looked at the red headed Weaselette. Not anymore. The uncritical, blind adoration that had been in his eyes whenever he looked at the tart couldn't hold a candle to the deep trust, steady warmth and unwavering loyalty she had seen when he'd looked at her - and there had been more, something she couldn't decipher, something that had made her heart start somersaulting.

Still, couldn't he have come clean right away? She let out a small, annoyed sigh and her smile became rueful. By now and after all those years he should have realised what he felt for her. A small laugh escaped her lips, and she shook her head. Of course he wouldn't; he was still such an infuriatingly slow prat at times, though to be fair, he still somewhat carried the damage inflicted on him by those Muggles. Yet, like he'd said when he carried her into the grotto, he was _her _prat, hers alone.

The big smile returned to her face. Even better, he'd been hers right from the beginning, even if she didn't know it: he'd chosen her over the Weaselette. True, he hadn't been in love with her back then, they still had had to learn how to become friends. However, he'd dedicated himself to her and their marriage, and they had grown together over everything that had happened to them during all these years, the good things as well as the bad. If only she had known all those years ago, it would have spared her quite a few sleepless nights. Still, she knew now, and there was no chance for the Weaselette to get between them, not anymore; that ship had sailed a long time ago, on a cold, wet Christmas Day on an agricultural road in the middle of soggy fields.

She put the empty cup back on the small table beside the daybed, closed her eyes once more and leaned back in the cushions, and basked in the glory of that special memory from so long ago.

'You look awfully smug,' an annoying familiar voice shattered her daydream and pulled her from her thoughts.

Daphne startled; her neck stiffened. Pansy, of all people. She could've done without her, Pansy was almost as big a gossip as Lavender, and most likely would try to sound her out about Harry's supposedly rekindled affair with the Weaselette. Thanks to Skeeter that was the general impression the magical public had.

She took a breath to center herself, forced her face into a bland mask, and opened her eyes. 'How do you do, Pansy? We haven't seen each other for ages.'

Pansy bent down to her, and they exchanged the air-kisses that were socially accepted custom between old roommates.

'Silly, we saw each other at your party on Saturday,' Pansy said and straightened. She settled down on the daybed next to Daphne. 'Of course, I understand that your attention was totally engaged elsewhere, wasn't it? You poor thing, I really felt for you when your husband went gallivanting off with that tart.'

Daphne raised an expertly manicured eyebrow at her. 'You seem to know more than I do. The tart, as you call the current face of our magical division, is an employee of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products, and Saturday's party was in actual fact a business appointment for her, Harry and myself, or did you miss that part on the invitation? Harry walked her around and introduced her to the press and the influential people, as was his job for the evening.'

The simper that had infuriated her during their school days had already appeared on Pansy's face. 'Of course, sweetie, whatever makes you sleep at night. Remember, Mrs Potter, I too know how the game is played, and whilst I can respect that you want to keep your dignity intact, you can't fool me.' She sniffed. 'If, however, you ever need a shoulder to cry on, I'm there for you. Really, how could he? First that offense at the ball, and today -' She interrupted herself and all of a sudden seemed to be busy with examining her finger nails.

A small pang jolted through Daphne, but she didn't let it show. Today? What had the Weaselette done now? However, she wouldn't give Pansy the satisfaction and ask her. Did she really think her that dumb that she wouldn't see right through her concerned-friend-act? Obviously, given the covert, malicious side glances she cast at her when she thought she wasn't looking. Well, Pansy had never been the sharpest knife in the drawer, even though she was unfortunately almost as good as she was at playing power games. What a pity for Pansy, however, that she was still a tad better.

She gave an indifferent shrug, leaned back into the cushions and closed her eyes. 'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'Of course you don't, poor baby.'

Daphne didn't answer. The soft rustle of cushions and blankets next to her indicated that Pansy was shifting in her seat. How long would it take until she broke?

More shifting and rustling of blankets. Daphne suppressed a gleeful grin. Patience had never been Pansy's strongest point. Five minutes, at the most, and she would break.

Pansy didn't even last another two. 'I saw Harry today.'

'Hm-hm?' she hummed, her eyes still closed. That would vex Pansy to no end.

'He had lunch.'

Daphne's mouth curled into a wry smile; she opened one eye and looked at Pansy. 'Well, even the Chosen One needs to eat now and then, he doesn't run on magic alone, you know.' She closed her eye again.

'He wasn't alone'

Ah, so now they were coming to the interesting part. Her stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. She suppressed a groan. She'd made it through today so far without another bout of the awful nausea that had plagued her ever since the day of Veterans Ball. Oh no, not again, and not now. Whatever was wrong with her, she couldn't afford to be distracted by that right now. Pansy could smell weakness like a shark tracked blood in the water.

She raised her hand and pushed a strand of hair out of her face, her eyes still closed. That gave her stomach the time it needed to settle down before she answered in a slightly condescending tone. 'Pansy, Harry is hardly ever alone. He is after all a very busy man.'

That apparently gave Pansy the opening she was waiting for. 'Very busy, indeed,' she said with an exaggerated giggle. 'The Weaselette was with him, and they seemed awfully focussed on each other.'

She'd expected something like that. Again, her stomach quivered, and she took a deep breath to center herself. Any weakness in front of Pansy would be potentially disastrous. There was no need for her to freak out, either, not after the talk she and Harry had had yesterday, he loved her, she knew that in her heart.

She opened her eyes and gave Pansy another wry smile. 'Well, I'd hope so. I already told you, the Weaselette is our newest model. She had her first photo shooting for us today. Harry had business in that part of London, too, and he'll have stopped by to make sure everything went alright. The gentleman he is, he most likely took her out for lunch afterwards. They are still friends, after all.'

Pansy gave her a look as if she had taken away her favourite toy. 'You knew about this?'

Daphne laughed a little. 'Of course I did, silly. Did you think he's keeping his meetings with the Weaselette a secret from me? Why should he?'

Pansy it appeared didn't have an answer to that, and Daphne closed her eyes again, mentally chalking up another point for herself in their ongoing bitchy war. For the time being her obnoxious former roommate was under control, and she was free to focus on more important problems.

There was no way Harry had sought out the tart himself - unless it was to tell her to keep her distance from him. Daphne scrunched up her nose slightly; that was rather unlikely. No matter how much she loved Harry, she wasn't blind to his faults. He'd have issues telling someone he still considered a friend to stay away from him, not to mention that their close friendship with Ron, Bill and their wives would complicate things even more - and that wasn't even considering what Molly would say.

No, he wouldn't have instigated a lunch date with the Weaselette. It was more likely the other way round. It seemed her warning at the Veterans Ball hadn't curtailed the Weaselette for long; she was still stalking Harry. She suppressed another sigh; this had to come to an end, the stupid wench was now interrupting her relaxation time, too.

She scrunched up her nose again and came to a decision. There was only one solution to that dilemma: she had to take matters into her own hands.

* * *

_ **The Rectory, May 18th 2008** _

She still hadn't completely decided what she was going to do about the Weaselette when she Apparated back to _The Rectory _a couple of hours later, sporting a new haircut with stylish new highlights, and her face artfully and tastefully made up with the best Crystal Fairy products on offer. The lavender-scented, gossip-heavy atmosphere of the beauty parlour wasn't at all helpful when it came to plotting.

As she entered the house Matty _popped _in and took her light cloak.

'Is Master Harry home yet?'

Matty shook her head. 'Master still bes at work, Mistress Daffy. Can Matty bring Mistress Daffy some tea?'

She smiled at the elf, 'Thanks, but I'll have tea later, with Harry. I'll just go up to our room and change. After a day in the city laying down, I feel like stretching my legs. If Harry returns while I'm away, tell him I've taken a short stroll around the gardens and parklands.'

She walked purposefully to their bedroom and changed the robes she'd been wearing for her visit in Diagon Alley for faded jeans, a plaid shirt and a pair of comfortable hiking boots more appropriate for a walk in the countryside where she might happen to meet Muggles.

Five minutes later she found herself walking along a well-maintained hiking trail that circled the small village that she and Harry lived on the outskirts of. She never got tired of the view on the picturesque village in the tree lined hollow.

Her eyes wandered towards an imposing building near the top of one of the other hills surrounding the valley, and in easy walking distance from _The Rectory._

_Stinchcombe Hall._

Whilst it was not the ancestral Potter seat, it was the most grandiose of the houses Harry had inherited from his grandfather. Fleamont Potter had bought the formidable house to be nearer to his best friend, whilst also harbouring the hopes of a future connection between their families by the marriage of their children yet to be born.

She gave a wry smile. His plans hadn't worked out as he had hoped for that first generation; he'd had his wish fulfilled with the next, however. She frowned at the house in question: and now the Weaselette had rented that house from Harry's estate. Harry had told her that little tidbit of news yesterday. Daphne made a face at the thought; the Weaselette was welcomed to that monstrosity, how anyone could voluntarily live in that personification of opulence was beyond her. She and Harry had previously used the house only for receptions that were too big to be held at _The Rectory, _and rented it out whenever the opportunity arose.

Lost in her thoughts, she had reached the ha-ha, a retaining moat that separated the parklands of _Stinchcombe Hall _from the adjoining pastures. She ambled along the path that followed the ha-ha on the outside and let her gardener's eye swerve over the park, in search of things she should talk about with the head garden elf.

When she came to one of three small turrets Fleamont had built into the ha-ha so that he could cross the ha-ha to the meandering path that led to _The Rectory_ and visit his friend, she mounted the stairs: its arched windows offered a beautiful view across the hollow and onto the village below, perfect for contemplation.

The turret unfortunately wasn't empty: the Weaselette sat on the inbuilt stone bench. Her face was turned away from Daphne, and she was so focussed on her own thoughts that she didn't seem to have noticed her approach or heard her footsteps on the wide stone stairs.

Heat flashed through Daphne's body, and her nostrils flared. This was an opportunity too good to let pass; the bitch wasn't aware of the danger she was in. She'd show her once and for all why it was a big mistake to make a move on Daphne Potter's husband!

Her wand was in her hand in the blink of an eye. Two quick silent spells later and the Weaselette was disarmed and petrified.

Daphne strode from the entrance of the turret. The Weaselette had fallen from the bench when the Full Bodybind Curse hit her, and now looked up at her with flashing eyes.

Daphne shivered. If looks could ignite someone, she'd be a human torch right now.

Once again she pointed her wand at the Weaselette, cast a silent Levitation Charm, and directed the bitch out of the turret with the help of her wand, accidently bumping her into a wall or two on the way down. When she was finally outside, she smirked down at the still glaring woman.

'You and I, my dear, are going to have a long overdue girl-talk right now, I just won't take no for an answer.' With another flick of her wand, she directed the petrified witch along the path that led up to the house. She definitely didn't need any witnesses for what would follow.

_t.b.c._


	12. Chapter 12

_ **London, May 18th 2008** _

From his unexpected and, quite frankly, annoying lunch with Ginny, Harry Apparated straight to the Apparition Point in the magical section of the headquarters of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products. He holed himself up in the office he still shared with Daphne, which seemed to be unnatural quiet and empty without her, under the pretext to review the meeting he'd had that morning.

Truth be told, he didn't get much work done that afternoon. He tried to concentrate on the papers in front of him, he really did; however, the talk he'd had with Ginny pushed itself to the fore unbidden over and over again.

'_There's no way you care for Greengrass, since you're already in love with me.'_

'_Sirius said you are just like your father, you were also going to fall in love with a redhead at a very young age. And that's what you did; you fell in love with me.'_

He threw his fountain pen onto the blotter in frustration. What a load of rubbish! History wouldn't repeat itself just because he looked very much like his father and his first steady girlfriend happened to be a redhead somewhat like his mother. What was it with this talk about love, anyway? How was he supposed to know if he loved someone when he had grown up without knowing love in his life? True, his parents had loved him, and probably Sirius, too, but they all had left him before he had built up any substantial memories of their love for him.

And then there was bloody Dumbledore. He who had always gone on and on about his great capacity to love and that it was the power Voldemort didn't possess. That was a steaming pile of sparkly Unicorn turds; in the end it was his willingness to let himself get killed by the bastard in order to destroy the Horcrux in him that had determined Voldemort's fate. It sure as hell hadn't been done out of any feeling of love as far as he could tell; hell, even now he couldn't really say why he had walked out into the forest, other than knowing it was the only way that would ensure that Voldemort could be killed?

He spun his chair and looked out through the window on to London. His religious instruction at primary school had been sparse, and the Dursleys hadn't shown any interest in religion at all, however, he remembered vaguely the story about Jesus dying out of love, being willing to take on the sins of mankind, _so that everyone exercising faith in him might not be destroyed but have everlasting life. _Funny how much the human brain remembered, the words from the Bible popped up in his head without even trying to remember them.

According to Dumbledore, he also had been willing to sacrifice his life in order to save the wizarding world, which the old codger cited as proof for his great capacity of love. A kind of magical Jesus, so to speak.

He let out a harsh bark of a laugh. What a load of Hippogriff shit! He wasn't an incarnation of Jesus, there wasn't anything godly or even remotely saintly about him. Truth be told, Dumbledore's reading of the events made him nauseous. Next thing he knew, some misguided wizard would put all the facts together and conclude his near-death experience in the Forbidden Forest was close enough to returning from the dead like, well, Jesus, and the sheep-like, non critical thinking magical population would hail him as their new messiah.

Ugh, hell no, he didn't need _that._ The adoration for his person was already bad enough as it was. Besides, love for his fellow wizards and witches had been the last thing on his mind when he made the decision to face Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest. It simply had gone on too long, there had been too many victims, he had been tired, emotionally spent, and he just wanted it to end. Someone had to end it, and it was by some cruel joke of fate that he had the means to facilitate the end game by letting himself be killed - _for the Greater Good_. How fortunate he had no family that would miss him …

The _Renouvellement _Potion had forced him to live through this moment again, forced him to examine his own motivations, and also forced him to analyse Dumbledore's role in this development. He'd come to the conclusion that he'd been set up as a sacrificial lamb by Dumbledore from his early childhood on, and that his failure to check in on him and even actively to overlook the signs of neglect he bore when he came to Hogwarts were all part of the plan _for the Greater Good. _Dumbledore had almost ensured that he had no sense of self-worth, he'd thought he was expendable, and that had driven him into the forest; love hadn't even entered the equation.

What an utterly contemptible thing to do to a helpless, unloved child, who grew up to be a young man without an ounce of love in his body for himself.

That discovery had almost sent him over the edge and into that very inviting, gaping black void, for as far as he could tell he had nothing left to live for … until he had heard her voice. She had pulled him back from the edge, she had kept him from falling into the abyss.

A smile crept across his face. Without Daphne, he would be dead by now. He owed her so much, his life, his mental and physical health. Furthermore, somehow she complimented him; among the other things she had taught him was how to reign in his temper; she'd been with him every step of the way to him becoming his own man, first during their studies, later when he became a member of the Wizengamot, and finally when he'd had to take up the mantle at Crystal Fairy's at far too young an age. Somewhere along the way she'd taught him to care for himself, to realise he was actually worth something. She was his strongest supporter, sounding board and critic. His days were packed, he worked long hours and had more responsibilities than he'd ever thought would befall him, however, together with Daphne it was all manageable and bearable.

His relationship with Daphne was the polar opposite to what he'd had with Ginny, the relationships almost couldn't be compared at all. He'd been another person back then, a teenager with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Ginny had been a welcomed escape from the nightmare his life was; they'd spent most of their time together at Hogwarts joined at the lips. He laughed and shook his head; of course, that had been his teenage hormones speaking, and despite of the danger he'd been in, he'd still been a hormone ridden teenager when he looked at Ginny's dot on the Marauder's Map while he was on the run and missed the comfort her kisses gave him. They'd picked right back up at the same stage after the war, and never progressed from there.

In stark comparison, whilst he and Daphne shared a fantastic physical relationship, they weren't limited to that, thank Merlin. He loved being with her; working together, the long talks they had about anything that came to their minds, visiting with friends together, doing simple things in the house and garden with her, or just cuddling together in front of the fireplace.

He _loved_ being with her_ …_

Such a momentous word, yet so easily said.

His heart missed a beat, then pounded against his ribcage as if he'd just ran a mile, and his skin tingled all over his body. He sat straight and very still for a long time, his eyes wide.

If he loved being with Daphne, did that also mean he loved her?

At last, a groan escaped his mouth; he propped his elbows on the flat of the desk and buried his face in the palms of his hands.

Merlin, he was the biggest idiot that had ever walked on this earth, wasn't he? He'd been ignoring the obvious for years. Of course he loved her; he had no idea when it had started, maybe the day she'd offered him divorce for the first time because she thought being with her made him unhappy?

And Daphne … She'd had the patience of a saint, that much was sure. It was a miracle she'd put up with him, as oblivious and uncaringly as he had treated her. There was no doubt she reciprocated his feelings, otherwise she'd have turned her back on him gladly as soon as the first opportunity presented itself after Cyrus' death.

He pulled his hands from his face and pressed his mouth into a determined line. He might have been oblivious in the past, but there was no excuse for him to carry on like this.

He picked up the receiver of the phone on his desk and pressed the button for the front office.

'Lisa? I'm calling it a day, alright? Bye.'

He put back the receiver without waiting for her reply and got up. He had to force himself to walk to the Apparition Point in an acceptable pace, instead of running home as fast as possible.

Not even a minute later, Matty opened the door as he walked towards the house. His heart beat in his chest like a drum. How would Daphne react when he told her of his feelings? Would she be delighted, or angry at him because he'd never told her of his feelings for her and she'd resigned herself to never knowing if he loved her? Well, he would certainly deserve her anger.

'Evening, Matty. Where's Daphne?'

'Mistress Daphne said she bes on a short stroll and bes back soon.'

His breath hitched, and his heart seemed to shrink in his chest. He looked to the ground, bit his lips, and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. What did he expect? He'd needed ten years for the realisation he loved his wife, she surely wasn't waiting for him breathlessly to declare his feelings for her. She'd probably given up on that daydream a long time ago …

He picked up his briefcase and walked up to their room to get changed. Clad in comfortable jeans and a knitted sweater, he walked down to the family room a couple of minutes later.

His eyes searched the room, but Daphne wasn't back yet, and his face fell. He flopped down onto the sofa and picked up the _Daily Prophet _to distract himself. Even though the _Sunday Prophet _had already covered the promotion party with a long article, the _Daily Prophet _had to offer their two knuts worth in a slightly shorter article, written by Rita Skeeter, in its Monday edition. As expected, Rita once again alluded to his supposed affair with Ginny in that article and made a big deal out of the fact he'd escorted Ginny around the garden after the presentation and introduced her to a couple of people.

Harry put down the newspaper with a swear word that would have got him into trouble with Daphne, if she were here. Had she seen the article? Most likely. Great, just what she needed on top of her not being well for the past two weeks. At least she'd seemed to believe him when he'd told her yesterday that Ginny had never been a danger to their marriage and would never be.

The sound of the back door being yanked open startled him out of his thoughts. He sat up straight and turned his head.

Daphne rushed into the room from the back hallway, her face flushed, and an irritated sparkle in her eyes. The second her eyes fell on him, the sparkle disappeared and gave way to a genuine smile.

'Harry! You're home early today.' She flopped down onto the sofa next to him and kissed his cheek.

He put his arm around her shoulder and leaned towards her to give her a proper kiss. 'You smell fantastic, and you look even better. New haircut?' he asked when he pulled back.

The colour of her cheeks intensified. 'Do you like it?' She gave one lock a flirtatious tug and winked at him. 'Thanks for the compliment. Are you trying to soften me up for something?'

'Can't a guy tell his wife she's looking great without being accused of having a hidden agenda?' He gave her a mock-scowl. 'Though, you're right, there's something I have to tell you.'

Daphne let out a snort. 'I knew it!' She kicked off her shoes, pulled her legs up onto the sofa, and snuggled against him. 'However, if you're alluding to your clandestine lunch with Ginny, I already know about that.'

He gasped for breath and pulled away to look at her. Was she angry at him? It was hard to tell, although she smiled at him, the irritated sparkle was back in her eyes. 'You know already? How?'

'Pansy,' she said, and rolled her eyes.

Harry gave a mirthless snort. 'I should've known that. That woman is worse than Skeeter. I never saw her; makes me wonder if she's also a beetle animagus.'

A slight frown appeared on Daphne's face. 'According to Pansy, you and Ginny were rather focussed on each other. That would explain why you didn't notice her, wouldn't it?'

Uh oh, this was definitely heading in the wrong direction. He'd better tell her the gist of his talk to Ginny right now, or she'd get the wrong impression.

'I ran into Ginny on my way from the Chamber of Commerce back to headquarters. She said she'd had a photo shoot for the company somewhere around there. Well, you know how she's behaved towards me whenever I met her during the last two weeks. Today was no exception, so I thought I'd better tell her in no uncertain terms that I'm not interested.' He made a face, which elicited an amused smile from Daphne. Good, as long as she saw the humour in his situation, she wasn't inclined to become angry at him.

'I got us some take-out, and we sat down on a bench in a small park. It was the most public spot I could think of. As handsy as she was, I didn't want to be alone with her anywhere.'

His wife actually snorted at that, and he gave her a mock-glare. 'Stop laughing at me. She was worse than the Giant Squid, her bloody tentacles were always clutching at me. She asked why I was so distant, and I pointed out to her that I'm married to you and actually care about you and our marriage. That caused her to break out into laughter.'

Daphne's eyebrows rose up at that. 'Why's that?'

He huffed. 'Apparently, because of some idiotic thoughts Sirius shared with her after he'd had too much Firewhisky. Remember how I told you that my father fell in love with my mother around his third year?'

She nodded to that. 'What's got that to do with you?' The next second, she gasped, and her face lit up in understanding. 'I get it. You look very much like your father, and your mother was a redhead, too -'

'Yes, and add to that Sirius' wish to turn back time, and the legend about Potter men falling for redheads only at a very young age and being in love only once in their life is born.' He finished the sentence for her.

Daphne gaped at him. 'You're taking the mickey.'

'I wish I was.' He sighed. 'Ginny seemed to believe every word of it; she told me I couldn't be in love with you because I was already in love with her and would always be.'

The colour in Daphne's cheeks intensified even more, and she gave him a strange look. 'I wonder what you answered to that.'

He pulled her closer towards him and dropped a kiss in her hair. 'I told her that not only am I not my father's clone, but, believe it or not, I'm my own person, thank you very much, and that you and I have a very good marriage based on mutual trust and affection. That was when she tried to feed me the dragon dung about her four marriages having been unsuccessful attempts to get over me.'

Daphne averted her eyes. 'I see,' she said in a low voice, and stiffened slightly in his arm.

His stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. He had to come to an end about Ginny and assure Daphne about his feelings. 'To make a long story short, I told her to cut the crap because I knew about her ongoing affair with her Italian stallion.'

She looked up at him sharply and a faint grin appeared around Daphne's mouth as his words sank in. He responded with a wink and put both of his arms around her. 'She got angry and blamed me for having put her in danger when I left on the hunt for the dark twat's Horcruxes. That brought us to the interesting part; she finally all but admitted that she'd never been interested in me; all she wanted was the Boy-Who-Lived, and the fame and the gold.' He shrugged his shoulders. 'I left after that. I guess there's a small hope she'll have actually caught the message.'

Daphne let out a sigh. 'That would be too good to be true. She's really becoming annoying.'

He took her chin between his fingers and turned her head until she was forced to look him in the eyes. 'She might be annoying, darling, but I can promise you that she'll never come between us. You mean too much to me.' His heartbeat seemed to stop, and the next second his heart crashed against his ribcage like a sledgehammer. The palms of his hands became moist. It was now or never; sweet Merlin, how would she take it?

'It probably sounds weird coming from me after all these years, but … I love you, Daphne, and I'll do everything to ensure that Ginny will never again hurt you like she did at Veterans Ball.'

Daphne became very still. Her eyes grew wide, and her mouth opened into a silent "oh". There was a long silence, while she looked at him in a way that left him breathless.

Could she hear his heartbeat? His heart hammered against his chest as if it was trying to break through his ribs and pound its way out of his body, all while he waited for her reply, to say something, anything ...

'Do you have an idea how long I've waited for you to say these words?' she said at length.

The hammering of his heart stopped, and it seemed to plummet into the deepest pit of his stomach. Heat shot into his face; he lowered his head and bit on his lips. She had every right to be annoyed with him, he was such an insensitive bastard.

The next moment she snuggled against his chest with a contented sigh. 'I know how you grew up, honey, so I told myself to give you the time you needed to learn to know your own feelings. Merlin, I never would've thought you'd need this long!'

His breath caught, and his heart seemed to soar up to his throat and take residence there. Did that mean -?

She tilted her head back and looked into his eyes. 'I kept telling myself you didn't need to, that it was obvious by the way you treated me, and yet there was always that tiny sliver of doubt in my heart, that maybe you didn't and I was deluding myself.' Her eyes became dark, her mouth quivered as if she was biting back tears, and she lowered her head.

Oh Merlin, what had he done to her? How could he have treated the most wonderful woman in the world like taken for granted? He pulled her into a tight hug. 'I'm so sorry, darling. I'm the most insensitive and slowest prat in the world,' he said in a hoarse voice.

Again, Daphne tilted her head back and looked at him; the light in her eyes almost blinded him. The corners of her mouth turned up in a small smile, and her arms sneaked around his neck. 'Yes … Yes you are, honey. However, as you so accurately pointed out during the Veterans Ball, you are my prat, and I don't want you any other way. I happen to love you just the way you are, infuriatingly slow on the uptake, messy hair, beautiful green eyes, a man of vision and compassion, a man I love and have loved for a very long time and most importantly a man who I finally know for sure is all mine!'

_t.b.c._


	13. Chapter 13

_ **The Rectory, May 19th 2008** _

Waking up with his wife in his arms was close to heaven on earth. Harry buried his nose into the soft locks under his chin, inhaled the spicy scent he'd grown to love, his eyes still closed and not yet ready to let go of this delicious state of floating between sleep and wakefulness. He tightened his arms around Daphne and pulled her closer.

She reacted with a content sigh in her sleep and buried her head deeper in his chest.

A broad smile appeared on Harry's face. It had been there ever since he'd confessed his feelings to Daphne yesterday. Thank Merlin, she had, as ever, been much too understanding and ready to forgive his asinine cluelessness of gigantic proportions. Why she still put up with him was beyond him, but he as sure as hell wouldn't complain.

A soft buzzing on his bedside table interrupted his thoughts. He frowned. Who was calling him at this early hour?

He rolled onto his back, careful as not to wake up Daphne. Merlin knew she still looked much too pale, with black smudges beneath her eyes and in need of her rest.

She gave a moan of protest and followed the warmth of his body until she lay sprawled over his chest, still wrapped in her bubble of sleep.

Harry dropped a kiss into her hair and reached a groping arm out for his mobile, cursing under his breath as he pushed it around a couple of times on the flat of his bedside table before at last getting hold of it. He flipped the ingenious, nevertheless annoying Muggle contraption open and held it to his ear.

'Potter.'

'Good morning, Harry, it's Lisa. Where are you? You do know you were supposed to be in a meeting ten minutes ago, right?'

Harry squinted at the old-fashioned mechanical brass alarm clock on his bedside table. The clock was silent. Damn, he'd forgotten to wind it up last night, he and Daphne had had too many other things on their minds, and had promptly overslept this morning.

Heat shot into his face. At least the dratted mobile didn't come with an automatic video camera, so Lisa couldn't see him and Daphne right now.

'Have you overslept?'

There was an unmistakable grin in her voice, no doubt she knew he was still in his bed. She'd probably excelled at Divination. He made a face at the mobile. 'Yeah.' There was no use in denying it.

Daphne stirred in her sleep and muttered something unintelligible. He looked down onto her golden head. Truth be told, he didn't feel like jumping out of bed, hurrying to headquarters and making it somehow through another long day. Not today, not after his momentous discovery that he loved Daphne and had actually loved her for years. They needed some time for themselves right now, he needed to explore this discovery for a while. He made his decision in a split-second. What good was it to be your own boss if you couldn't skive off once in a while?

'Listen, Lisa,' he said, trying to keep his voice as soft as he could. 'Daphne isn't feeling well. I'm going to take her to see a healer this morning; I don't trust her to keep her promise and see one. So, please clear our schedules for today and for the rest of the week. Daphne needs some time out, and I'm going to make sure she'll rest, even if that means I'll have to stick her to the sofa with a Sticking Charm.'

Lisa let out a low chuckle. 'Good luck with that, Harry. You know even better than me how stubborn that woman can get. Though I agree, it's time she sees a healer; she's been wearing Glamour Charms and hasn't been eating properly the last two weeks, that's not like her. Give her my love, will you? Bye.'

'Bye, Lisa, and thank you.'

He ended the call, put the mobile back on the bedside table, and his arm once again around his wife. No need to wake her up just yet, there would be time enough to take her to St. Mungo's later in the day. He closed his eyes, revelling in the warmth of Daphne's body close to his, and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

'Mistress Daffy, Master Harry!'

A tiny hand grabbed his shoulder, shook it and Harry's eyes shot open. There was a sound of urgency in Matty's voice that had him fully awake and alert at once. He turned his head to the elf next to his bed, a frown on his face. 'What is it, Matty?'

Daphne, still sprawled across his chest, stirred and raised her head. 'Whassit?' Her voice sounded hoarse and groggy, and her blinking eyes were still hazy with sleep.

Matty wrung her small hands. 'Master Director McLean bes waiting in the living room. Matty tries send him away. Master Director McLean says he need see Mistress Daffy and Master Harry. Master Director McLean says he not bes go away before Mistress Daffy and Master Harry come down.'

Harry exchanged a look with his wife. The sleep left her eyes, and a deep frown appeared on her face. 'What by Merlin's hairy balls does he want this early in the morning?'

The corners of Harry's mouth twitched, despite his irritation about the rude awakening. 'Tsk, tsk, language, Mrs Potter. I have no idea what he wants, darling. Besides, it isn't that early anymore. We overslept.'

'We what?' She gasped and pushed herself off his chest. The next moment she swung her legs out of the bed and sprung up, only to sway and to grab onto the bedpost to keep herself from falling.

'Daphne!' Harry sprang out of the bed, almost colliding with Matty, ran towards her, and caught her in his arms. 'Whatever McLean wants, he can wait. I'm going to take you to a healer right now.'

His heart hammered in his chest as he looked into her pale face. She had her eyes closed and took a couple of dry gulps as if she was trying to fight back nausea. Her breathing was shallow, and her skin felt clammy against his. Forget McLean and his bad timing, he could come back another time.

Daphne let out a deep breath, opened her eyes, and looked at him. 'Thanks, honey; I'm better. It was just a bout of dizziness. I got up too fast, I suppose. Give me another minute, and I'll be ready to see McLean.'

He tightened his grip around her and almost hissed out. 'I don't give a damn about McLean; I'm going to take you to St Mungo's right now, Daph. This has gone on for too long, you -'

She put a finger on his lips and silenced him. 'I'm alright, darling. It's nothing. Though I promise to go to St Mungo's - _after _we've dealt with McLean and whatever it is he wants.' The tone of her voice was final.

Harry suppressed a sigh and rolled his eyes. Why in the world did she have to be that stubborn? He tried yet another time, trying not to show his frustration with her and her repeated refusals to see a healer. 'No, darling, just hell, no -'

She shut him up with a glare that reminded him of Cyrus. '_After _McLean, Harry.' She extricated herself from his arms and vanished into the bathroom.

He huffed. 'Fine, have it your way. Don't come complaining to me if you collapse yet another time.'

'I won't,' came her muffled reply through the closed door.

There was nothing to add; with a silent cuss word on his lips he turned towards his walk-in wardrobe and got dressed into jeans and a plaid shirt to meet McLean.

* * *

They stopped at the threshold and he exchanged a puzzled look with Daphne.

McLean was pacing the living room like a tiger in a cage. His hand ran through his hair over and over again, messing it up, and he muttered to himself in a low voice.

What had got into the man? As the Director of the Department for Public Relations and Advertisement McLean was used to dealing with emergencies; Harry's fame as the Chosen One and his political ambitions had given him a lot of practise over the last ten years. As a rule, there was very little that could throw the experienced man into a loop, and he couldn't remember the last time he had seen him that agitated.

The worry in Daphne's dark eyes matched his own foreboding. She took his hand, and together they stepped into the room.

'Good morning, Director McLean. What has you so agitated?' Daphne asked.

McLean whirled around, his hand still clutched in his hair. At the sight of them standing in the room he let out a deep breath, and his hand fell to his side.

'Mrs Potter, Mr Potter… good morning… This is a disaster… I still can't fathom… I don't know where to begin -'

'What about at the start?' Harry cut him off and motioned him with his hand to sit down in one of the chairs.

McLean let out another deep breath and plopped into the next chair.

Daphne and Harry sat down next to each other on the sofa opposite to McLean. Harry's stomach coiled itself into a tight knot. Whatever McLean had on his mind, it wasn't good.

McLeans hands gripped the armrests of his chair, knuckles whitening, his grip on the arms tight as if he had to prevent himself from jumping up and pacing the room once again. He took a deep breath. 'Ms Weasley was scheduled for another photo shoot this morning. I had assigned Patterson to supervise the shoot. About ten minutes after the supposed beginning of the photo shoot I got a Patronus messenger from him, telling me that Ms Weasley hadn't turned up. As you can imagine, I was furious about this lack of discipline. I sent my Patronus to Ms Weasley and demanded that she uphold her contracted obligations and turn up immediately.'

He'd run out of breath, interrupted himself and took another deep breath. 'I got no response, but wasn't really expecting one if I am honest, I assumed she would turn up with some excuse and that would be that. Twenty minutes later I got the next Patronus from Patterson: she hadn't turned up yet. I decided to take matters into my own hands and Apparated to Ms Weasley's residence.'

Thick beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. 'I don't know if you know where she lives -'

'I've been informed that Ms Weasley rents _Stinchcombe Hall _from the Potter estate,' Harry said.

McLean let out a relieved sigh. 'Good. Well, one of the elves opened the door. Apparently, none of your elves had seen Ms Weasley since yesterday late afternoon. She'd given orders to leave a cold dinner for two under Stasis Charms in the dining room and told the elves to make themselves scarce until she'd call them again.'

Harry's stomach churned; the sense of foreboding intensified. Daphne's hand stole into his; it was as clammy as his own hand.

'The elves weren't willing to act against Ms Weasley's orders, so I took it upon myself to go up to her room.' His face became pale, and he gulped a couple of times, unable to go on.

Harry's hand tightened around Daphne's. He swallowed; what had happened to Ginny?

'She's… Oh sweet Merlin! ... She's dead… I found her in her bedroom, flung against the wall like a child's broken toy.' Director McLean slumped forward and covered his face with the palms of his hands.

An ice cold fist hit Harry in the stomach. The coldness raced through his body with lightning speed, freezing his muscles and his brain. The room seemed to spin around in front of his eyes.

Ginny… dead?

It couldn't be; she was so full of life and energy…

Daphne's hand quivered in his. He looked at his wife; she'd pressed her fist against her mouth, her eyes wide open. 'D... dead?' Her voice cracked, and she slumped against him.

He put his arm around her shoulder, to comfort her as much as to steady himself in a swaying world, bent his head and gulped. The room came to a halt, and he let out a deep breath. What was he supposed to do now? He took another deep breath.

His brain started to work again. _Flung against the wall like a broken toy. _Sweet Merlin, a violent death, how was poor Molly supposed to cope with that? His head jerked up. 'I suppose someone informed the Aurors?'

McLean stared back at him with wide eyes. 'No…' His tongue flicked over his lips. 'No, Mr Potter; I… I didn't think of that. All I could think of was the campaign, and that I had to inform you and Mrs Potter immediately.'

Harry gave the man a hard stare and sprang to his feet. With two long strides he was at the fireplace, knelt down, ignited a small fire with a short flick of his wand, and tossed some Floo Powder into the flames. 'Auror Department.'

He gritted his teeth against the uncomfortable feeling of his head being spun through the Floo Network, while his body stayed behind.

The Auror on duty recognised him at once. 'Good morning, Mr Potter. What can I do for you?'

'I have just been informed by one of my employees that Ms Ginevra Weasley has been found dead in her bedroom at _Stinchcombe Hall _this morning. In his shock, my employee came to me as the owner of the house and Ms Weasley's current employer, instead of informing the Auror Department at once.' His voice sounded cool and collected, thank Merlin, and didn't let on that he still quivered like jelly on the inside.

The Auror on duty gaped at him. 'Ginevra Weasley? The international Quidditch star? The sister of the -?' He interrupted himself and turned pale. 'Sweet Merlin, who is going to tell him?'

Harry's shoulders sagged. Merlin's blue ball sack! Why did it always have to be him? However, he owed it to Ron for their long years of friendship; the horrible news had better come from someone close to him. So gathering his resolve he asked, 'Is Head Auror Weasley at the office?'

The man nodded, still mute with shock.

Harry sighed. 'Step aside. I'll come through.'

He pulled his head out of the flames and turned to Daphne. 'Someone has to tell Ron.'

She nodded, her eyes filled with tears. 'Sweet Morgana, I was angry at her and wanted her to go back where she came from. I didn't want her to die.' She took a shuddering breath. 'It's alright, Harry. Go. Ron will be devastated. It's better he hears the horrible news from you. Is there something I can do to help?'

'Yes; you need to tell Hermione and Fleur, they are two of your best friends, after all. Meet me at _The Burrow, _Arthur and Molly will need our support.'

She nodded quietly, still at the brink of tears, and he stepped back towards her and hugged her. She leaned against him for comfort for a brief moment, then straightened. 'I'm alright, Harry. I'll see you at _The Burrow._'

He kissed her on the forehead, let go of her and turned towards McLean. 'You'd better return to _Stinchcombe Hall _and wait for the Aurors. Since you are the one who found the -' He gulped, '- who found the body, I guess they'll want to talk to you. Matty will take you there; I don't want you to Splinch yourself in your current state.'

McLean gave a silent nod.

Harry called Matty, ordered her to take Director McLean to _Stinchcombe Hall_, and to tell the head house elf there to admit the Aurors to the house for their investigations. Then he Flooed to the Auror Department.

The horrible news seemed to have travelled within the department with lightning speed. About a dozen Aurors stood around the fireplace, talking in hushed voices, their field gear at their feet. When Harry stepped out of the Floo, Ron's deputy approached him.

Harry gritted his teeth and schooled his face into a bland mask. He didn't like the man, and neither did Ron.

Deputy Head Auror Everard Dawlish was a leftover of the Fudge and Scrimgeour administrations, one of the few Aurors at the department who had already served before and during the war. He'd been promoted to Deputy Head Auror under former Head Auror Gawain Robarts, for no other merits than he'd been one of the few Aurors who'd survived the war and hadn't taken the Dark Mark, and the long-term repercussions of the spell damage he had suffered when he tried to arrest Augusta Longbottom that made him unfit for field duty.

Under Robarts he'd been a capable, yet intellectually inflexible second in command, who eyed the necessary change in the department with distrustful suspicion, in particular the suggestions of one Senior Auror Ronald Bilius Weasley. He hadn't taken kindly to Ron's promotion to Head Auror over his head a couple of weeks ago. Chances were that he'd take a point on the apparent murder of Ron's sister to try make his mark.

Harry let out an inward sigh. That couldn't be helped; as a close relative of the victim Ron had a conflict of interest and was therefore precluded from the case, given it was a high profile victim Dawlish had to step in.

Dawlish lost no time for small talk. He gave Harry a curt nod and asked, 'Where is the body?'

'At _Stinchcombe Hall _in Kent. Gordon McLean, the Director of the Department of Public Relations and Advertisement of the magical part of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products informed me of the… incident. We have… had Ms Weasley under contract as a model, and he went to her house to look after her when she didn't turn up for an appointment this morning. I'm under the impression he found… the body, lost his head over the shock, and informed my wife and me instead of the Auror Department. I Flooed for the Aurors as soon as I became aware of that omission.'

The Deputy Head Auror gave a huff at that, but didn't comment. 'The Floo address?'

'It's _Stinchcombe Hall. _It's one of the houses that belong to the Potter estate. Ms Weasley rented it about two weeks ago, I think. I made sure the house elves will let you in and help you in every way possible.'

'Alright.' Dawlish gave him another curt nod and turned to the assembled Aurors. 'You've heard what Mr Potter said. _Stinchcombe Hall. _Thomas, you and Finnegan -'

Harry didn't wait for Dawlish to finish his orders to his subordinated Aurors. He turned towards the closed mahogany door at the opposite side of the office with a brass badge that read _Ronald B. Weasley, Head Auror._

He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and knocked.

'Come in.'

Harry's stomach rolled; he grabbed for the door handle with cold, trembling fingers. If only this was already over; it was almost as bad as having to walk to his final meeting with Voldemort, no, in a way it was even worse; he hated having to hurt Ron.

Ron looked up from his papers when he opened the door, a smile of welcome on his face that became even broader when he recognised his visitor. 'Harry, what a nice surprise. What -'

He interrupted himself, the smile vanished from his face and gave place to a look full of dread.

Ron knew him too well, something in his expression must have given him away.

'Daphne?' Ron asked in a quiet voice.

Harry shook his head. Thank Merlin, no, he was not the one to grieve for a loved one today. Ugh, what an egotistical thought.

'Ginny,' he said. His legs gave out under him, and he collapsed into one of the visitor chairs in front of Ron's desk.

Ron jerked back as if recoiling from him. Small beads of sweat pooled on his upper lip, and he paled.

'Ginny?'

'Yeah. She didn't turn up for her appointment today, so Director McLean went to get her. He… he found her, dead.'

A small choking sound escaped Ron's throat, and he swayed in his seat. 'How?' he finally got out in a toneless whisper.

Harry raised his hands, palms upwards, in a helpless gesture. 'I… I'm sorry, I don't know all the details. McLean lost his head and came to me. I informed the Aurors as soon as I heard she was… killed. Dawlish and a team of investigators are at _Stinchcombe Hall _as we speak.'

'Dawlish?' Ron sprang to his feet. 'Hell, no. I won't let that idiot mess up the investigation of the murder of my sister.'

Harry sprang up. His chair scratched over the wooden floor. He caught Ron by the arm and yanked him back. 'No, Ron. You know you can't interfere, you'd compromise any evidence they'll gather. We both wrote the law about the rules of conduct for Aurors, remember? You ought to take a leave of absence as long as the investigation continues or at least recuse yourself from the case.'

Ron stopped right in his tracks and glared at Harry, his face a dangerous red.

Harry held his breath. Was his best friend going to deck him?

The next second, Ron slumped onto the visitors chair Harry had just vacated. He buried his face in his hands and hunched as if in pain, a pain that no Pain Relief Potion on earth could numb.

Harry stepped beside his best friend, put a hand on his trembling shoulder, and prepared himself for a long wait.

_t.b.c._


	14. Chapter 14

_ **The Burrow, May 19th 2008** _

Harry Apparated Ron towards the Apparition Point on the hill behind _The Burrow _some time later. Ron had insisted he could Apparate by himself, but Harry didn't want to hear any of that. The man was in no condition to Apparate, his hands still trembled, although Harry wasn't sure if it was in rage now or grief.

'The last thing we need today is you Splinching yourself, Ron. Your family has already enough on their plate as it is,' he'd said, cringing internally as he reminded Ron inadvertently of his sister's death, and that was it. Ron had bowed his head, taken his arm, and now here they were, walking down the familiar path to the garden of _The Burrow._

The back door to the kitchen stood open, and the next generation of Weasley children were playing in the backyard: eight year old Victoire, her now five year old sister Dominique, and their two year old brother Louis, together with Percy's daughters, seven year old Molly and her twin sister Muriel, as well as George's two children, four year old Fred and six year old Roxanne, and Hermione and Ron's daughter, two year old Rose. However, the usual exuberant laughter of the children was missing, they were quiet and cast uneasy glances through the open door at the adults in the kitchen.

The kitchen was crowded, that much was visible as Harry and Ron neared the house. Yet, no word could be heard, except for strained whispers and the desperate sobbing of a woman.

Ron's jaw clenched at the sound, and Harry put his hand on his taut arm. If only there was more he could do.

The moment they entered the backyard, little Rose ran towards Ron as fast as her little legs could carry her and hugged his knees. Her chubby chin quivered as she looked up at Ron and held up her small arms. 'Aahm!'

Ron picked her up and swung her on his arms. She buried her head at his shoulder and put her thumb into her tiny mouth.

Harry's heart clenched. That gesture told more than anything how scared his goddaughter was by the unusual behaviour of the adults in her life.

Victoire, Dominique and Louis had gathered around Harry, and now Louis held out his arms to him very much like Rose had done with Ron.

Harry took the little boy on his arm and gave Victoire and Dominique each a one armed hug.

Percy's and George's children had gathered around Ron, seeking reassurance and comfort from him. Even though they regarded Harry as their honorary uncle, they weren't as comfortable around him as Bill's children.

Each a toddler on their arm, the two young men entered the much too quiet kitchen, the older children in tow.

Molly and Arthur sat near the head of the table, their arms around each other. Molly had buried her head at Arthur's shoulder, and her loud sobs echoed through the quiet room.

When Harry and Ron entered the room, Arthur raised his head and gave them a small nod. He looked as if he'd aged twenty years over night.

Bill and Fleur, Percy and Audrey, and George and Angelina sat on the benches around the table, their eyes red rimmed, mugs with cold tea in front of them, and going by the dazed expressions of their faces not yet able to understand the tragedy that had befallen the family.

Hermione and Daphne stood at the stove, preparing more tea. They both looked solemn, but their eyes showed no trace of recent tears.

Hermione rushed to her husband and gathered him and their daughter into a silent hug. Ron hid his face in Hermione's bushy hair. His shoulders quivered, and Harry averted his eyes.

'Mama!' Louis squeaky voice distracted him from the emotional moment. The toddler stretched out his arms towards his mother and squirmed on Harry's arm. 'Whoa, careful there, young man, or you're going to hurt yourself,' Harry said, and delivered the child to its mother.

Fleur thanked him with a strained smile and took the boy into her lap, while Victoire and Dominique snuggled up to the left and right of their father.

The other children also searched for the comforting presence of their parents.

Harry exchanged a look with his wife as he stepped next to her at the stove and put his arm around her shoulder. Her eyes mirrored his thoughts. What were they doing here? They didn't belong to such an emotional family moment, even if Harry was an honorary Weasley.

Long minutes passed. Nobody spoke. The oppressing silence was only disturbed by Molly's sobs that eventually became quieter.

The kettle on the stove whistled, a welcome distraction from the oppressive silence that seemed so out of place in the cheerful kitchen of _The Burrow. _Daphne turned towards the stove, picked up the kettle, and brewed a fresh pot of tea the Muggle way. She took a clean mug from the board above the stove, poured some tea into it, added a teaspoon of honey, and brought it to Molly.

'Here, you need to drink something, or you'll get sick. It's chamomile tea, and I've added a few leaves of catnip for the soothing effect.'

Molly's head jerked up as if she'd been bitten by a snake. She glared at Daphne with bloodshot eyes, almost swollen shut from too much crying. 'Are you going to kill me, too?'

Gasps echoed through the kitchen, and the younger children whimpered in fear about the hateful voice of their grandmother.

'Molly!'

'Mother!'

'Mum! What's got into you?' That was Ron.

Daphne stood as stiff as a board, hands tightly gripping the mug, her wide eyes trained on Molly.

Molly pointed an accusing finger at her. 'You have killed my daughter. Ginny had no enemies, but you've been jealous of her all this time, because Harry would have married her and not you, had he been given a choice. Don't you think for one second, you bitch, that I've forgotten how you threatened to kill my daughter at Veterans Ball.'

Daphne jumped; her face turned ashen within the blink of an eye, and the hot tea sloshed out of the mug and over her fingers. She paid it no heed, the mug tilted almost out of her fingers and would have crashed to the ground if Fleur hadn't reached up and taken it out of her hands.

Harry stepped beside his wife and put an arm around her trembling shoulders, his jaw set into a taut line. Molly was grieving, yes, and deserved some lenience. He also knew she'd never really warmed up to Daphne. These accusations, however, were uncalled for.

'I know you're in shock and desperate right now, Molly, so I won't put much stock to your words, although I think it's better if Daphne and I return home. We won't come back until you have need of us, we have no wish to cause you further distress.'

Molly didn't answer. She had once again buried her head at Arthur's shoulder and was once more crying with loud sobs.

Arthur raised his head, gave Harry and Daphne a silent nod, and mouthed "Sorry". He looked more miserable than before, if that was possible.

Harry led his wife out of the kitchen. As one, the Weasley children rose and followed them into the backyard.

'Please, don't heed my mother's words,' Bill said. 'That's her grief talking. She's looking for someone she can hold responsible. Fleur told me what happened between you and Ginny in front of the ladies' room at Veterans Ball, and I don't blame you for losing your composure and lashing out at her. Merlin knows she'd done enough that night to deserve your anger.' He pulled Daphne into a hug, and she thanked him with a faint smile.

Fleur, his siblings and their spouses followed suit.

Harry cast a look at his wife. What was this all about? However, she was still as white as a bedsheet, and here and now was not the right time and place to ask her.

Ten minutes later they sat in the conservatory of _The Rectory, _both a mug of soothing herbal tea in front of them. Merlin knew they needed something to calm down their nerves today; he surely did, and by the way Daphne's hand trembled when she picked up the mug in front of her, she needed it, too.

She took a sip, leaned back in the cushioned sofa, and closed her eyes, the mug cradled between her hands.

Harry raised his hand and caressed her pale cheek with the back of his index finger. 'What was Molly's diatribe all about?' he asked in a low voice.

Daphne sighed, opened her eyes, and cast him a miserable look. 'It's about something very stupid I did at the ball. I was dumb enough to let Ginny get at me, I lost my composure, and I publicly attacked and threatened her.'

Harry's stomach gave an uncomfortable flutter, and he stared at his wife from under raised eyebrows. What had she done? That wasn't at all like the composed and rational woman he knew. On the other hand, her composure had always suffered when she'd had the occasional bout of irrational jealousy, and she hadn't been herself at the night of the ball, either, as pale as she had been from her upset stomach.

Daphne bent forward and put her mug back on the table. She angled her upper body towards him and took his hand. 'Well, you knew what she did to us at the ball. I might have presented a calm face on the outside, nevertheless I was angry, actually, to be fair, I was beyond angry, I was furious at Ginny, so it didn't need much to provoke me. It was my bad luck that I ran into her when I went to the ladies' room, together with Fleur, Hermione and Lisa. She and Molly had just come out of the room. For the record, Ginny started it, you know. She came up to me and said something along the lines of she'd warned me before to stay away from what wasn't mine, I forget the exact wording.'

He gaped at her. 'She did what? I suppose the piece of property she was talking about was me?' He shook his head. 'She surely was delusional, wasn't she? Wait, there's something I missed.' He narrowed his eyes at his wife. 'She said she'd warned you before. Precisely when did this other encounter happen? You've never talked about that.'

Daphne gave a mirthless chuckle and pressed his hand. 'Of course it was you, honey. Well, truth be told, I've had two unpleasant encounters with her before that, at a time when Ginny still was an untouchable subject between us. The first was on our wedding day. She followed me up to my room when I went to get changed, and basically told me that no matter how close you and I would become physically, you'd cheat on me with her in your thoughts. I think her exact words were: _Whenever he touches you, whenever he kisses you, or whenever he sleeps with you, he'll be thinking of me._'

He jerked upright, and his hand tightened around hers. 'What? She did that to you on your wedding day? What a horrible thing to do, especially given the circumstances of our wedding.'

Her cheeks pinked a little. 'I can't deny she was successful. Even though we became close pretty soon, I second-guessed every word and every gesture from you for a long time.'

'I imagine.' Harry bent forward and gave her a soft lingering kiss, before resting his forehead on hers. 'I'm sorry, darling, you didn't deserve that. Had I known -' He broke off, pulled his head back and bit his lip. Yes, he would've tried to assure her of his fidelity back then, however, truth be told, his own feelings still had been all over the place, he'd had a hard time to get over Ginny, so it was doubtful his assurances would've done any good.

He grinned at his wife, trying to lighten the mood. 'Obviously, Ginny's ploy didn't work in the long run. At some point you seemed to have stopped second-guessing me. What made you change your mind?'

A responding grin spread over Daphne's face and some of her colour returned. 'Ginny.'

'Ginny?' His eyebrows rose up a notch. 'Well, if it was her, I'd call that poetic justice, don't you think so?'

Daphne chuckled. 'That never occured to me, although you have a point. Remember our first Christmas together at _The Burrow_? Don't deny it, you were distressed when you learned about Ginny's surprise marriage to Elias Frudge, and it didn't get better when we stumbled on them making out in the living room of _The Burrow._'

Heat shot into his face. 'You're right. Although it was also the day I realised I was over Ginny, and that my feelings for her had changed.'

'I figured that much out afterwards,' Daphne said with a nod. 'On that day, however, I went through a rollercoaster of emotions. You had left the room, and Ginny had followed you. I admit I was upset about that and needed some time alone, so I went into the kitchen. I saw you two standing at the edge of the orchard, and Ginny just flung her arms around your neck and invited you to kiss her. I didn't wait… no that's not right, I couldn't wait to see more, you know.'

'You saw that?' He scooted closer to her and put his arms around her shoulder. 'Had you stayed, you would've seen that I didn't act upon Ginny's invitation, but walked out on her.'

Daphne cuddled against him with a content sigh. 'Yeah, I was a fool, I know. Of course, I ran into Ginny only moments later, which should have told me right then and there that it hadn't gone the way I thought it had. She realised I'd seen you two together, and used the opportunity to drive the point home that you'd never really love me, that you'd always belong to her. Well, I thought …' she smiled slightly embarrassed. 'I thought that you'd decided to make her your mistress that day.'

Harry stiffened. 'You thought that? Daphne, you sweet, little fool, I never would've done that to you.'

She looked up at him and blew him a kiss. 'I know that now, honey. Right after my talk to Ginny, however, I was sad and angry and confused, so I took a walk to clear my head. That's where I found you near the grove, remember?'

'Yeah; you didn't wear a cloak and were as cold as an icicle.'

She blew him another kiss. 'You were so sweet and caring. You took me in your arms and put a Warming Charm on me. You have no idea how much that helped to calm down my frazzled nerves. I realised that I had only Ginny's word for what had happened between you; I also realised how far in trusting me you'd come during the first months of our marriage, and I decided not to listen to Ginny's insinuations anymore, but to show you the same trust you gave to me when you refused my magical oath the day you left the hospital.'

Her cheeks pinked once again. 'Well, I guess you remember what happened after that.'

Warmth spread in his chest. 'That I do.' He bent down and gave her a lingering kiss.

'Back to your encounter with Ginny on Veterans Ball,' he said. 'How did you react to her idiotic provocation?'

Daphne made a face. 'It was idiotic, wasn't it? I mean, how delusional was she? You'd broken up with her ten years ago, and you'd had next to no contact with her during all these years. It was obvious during dinner that she had no idea about the man you've become. On the other hand, we two have been through so much together, bad things and good things that bound us together. However, I'm ashamed to say I overreacted. I grabbed her by the arms and told her to stay away from you, or it would be the last thing she did. I'm also afraid to say that I dug my fingernails so deep into her flesh that they left marks.'

'Ouch.' Harry made a face. 'I agree, darling, that wasn't the smartest thing you ever did, especially since Ginny was found dead a week later. I doubt it makes you a prime suspect, though.' He hugged her to himself to raise her spirits.

She didn't answer. Instead, she averted her eyes, bit her lips, and lowered her head.

A cold, icy hand gripped Harry's heart and squeezed. What else had happened between Ginny and Daphne she hadn't told him yet and that might make her a suspect in Ginny's death? He reached out, took her chin in his hand, and with gentle pressure forced her to turn her head and look at him.

'What else aren't you telling me, darling?'

Tears shot into her eyes; she blinked them away. 'Something happened yesterday,' she said in a toneless voice. 'Pansy told me she saw you and Ginny having lunch together. I didn't believe for one second that you had searched for Ginny's company, Harry. But it was clear that she was still hunting you, and I knew I had to somehow put her in her place once and for all. The problem was that I had no idea how to do that. So I went for my walk yesterday afternoon. However, when I reached the boundary of _Stinchcombe Hall …'_

Her voice trailed off, and once again she averted her eyes.

Harry's stomach rolled, and a chill went down his spine. She hadn't, had she? Sweet Merlin, no, not his sweet and loving Daphne. Yet, there was that jealous streak of hers that made her cast rationality into the wind ... She'd also been irritated when she'd come home yesterday …

He shook his head, as if to clear his thought. Irritated, yes, but not agitated. More like she behaved at headquarters, when a minor, avoidable mistake had been made that vexed her. Her irritation had faded away the moment she'd seen him, and she'd even wound him up about his lunch with Ginny. She surely wouldn't have been able to behave that artless and unconcerned had she just … killed Ginny.

He let out a deep breath, put both of his arms around Daphne, and pulled her towards him. 'Tell me, love, we'll work it out.'

She sighed and leaned her head against his shoulders. 'Ginny sat in the turret that's built into the ha-ha of _Stinchcombe Hall. _She had her back to me; the opportunity was too good to miss it, so I Disarmed and Petrified her, and then Levitated her up to the house. I dumped her on the carpet in the entrance hall and told her to stay away from you, or I'd use the evidence Greco had gathered about her, her lover and her husbands to destroy her reputation, so that nobody would give her the time of day anymore. I told the head house elf to set her free as soon as I had left the grounds, and that's it.'

She raised her head and looked up at him. There was a trace of fear in her eyes. 'I'm now well aware I might have been the last human being who saw her alive before she met her killer.'

'Fuck!' He held her tight as if to shelter her from what was coming. If Dawlish found out about that encounter… If Molly repeated her delusional diatribe to him… It wouldn't matter that the head elf saw her leaving the house while Ginny was still alive, the evidence of an elf who owned loyalty to her wouldn't count. There was a big chance Daphne would become the number one suspect on Dawlish' list.

_t.b.c._


	15. Chapter 15

** _The Burrow, May 19th 2008_ **

Ron sat on the long bench in the kitchen of The Burrow, his head leaned against his wife's shoulder, and his arms cradled around his sleeping daughter in his lap. A plate with an untouched sandwich stood on the scrubbed, white flat of the table in front of him, and the tea in the mug next to it had gone cold a long time ago.

Hermione and Rosie, his two biggest treasures. He had no idea how he would've made it through today without their love and support. He glanced at his brothers. Like him, they'd looked for and took comfort in their spouses and children.

Bill had one arm around Victoire, and the other around Fleur, who held a sleeping Louis in her lap, and had Dominique snuggled up next to her. Percy and Audrey each had one of their twin daughters in their lap and leaned against each other. George held little Fred. The redheaded rascal was the spitting image of his father and his namesake, and of course didn't think of sleeping like his younger cousins. He'd bet his Auror badge that the angelic smile on the little boy's face was masking some mischief he'd just committed, most likely at the expense of his older sister Roxanne, his preferred victim. Roxanne sat on Angelina's lap, and caressed her dad's arm with her little hand over and over again.

Charlie was the only Weasley child still alive who was missing from their childhood home. He'd sent him an owl, immediately after he had recovered from his meltdown in his office, and informed him of Ginny's death. No doubt he'd take the next Portkey back home, though it would probably take him some time to get from the remote dragon preserve in Romania to The Burrow.

He'd be devastated, he and Ginny were especially close … His stomach gave a hard lurch - had been especially close. Ginny was dead.

His throat constricted, and he gritted his teeth so as not to burst out in tears in front of the children.

Sweet Merlin, Ginny, his fiery little sister, was dead. He would never again hear her voice making a funny, but cutting remark at his expense. Never again would she trounce his arse in a family game of Quidditch. Gone also was her last chance to reconcile with her family, a family she'd forsaken, for reasons he couldn't fathom a long time ago.

For what? The fame and gold? Had it made her happy?

He bit onto his lip until he drew blood. No, it hadn't; her hunt for Harry after all these years, even though it was plain to see for anyone who cared to look that he was deeply in love with Daphne, was proof enough for that.

What had she got herself into that got her killed? Was it about one of her many affairs? Even though she'd lived in the States, the stories about her many conquests had filtered back to magical Britain. She'd never been without a man by her side for long … Who had been her last lover? She'd separated from her last husband six months ago, there was no chance she'd been without a man that long. Did she get involved with the wrong bloke?

He buried his face into Rosie's bushy red hair. Maybe they'd never know; if only he could lead the investigation, Dawlish was a moron and borderline incompetent, worse he was dangerous, he'd use Ginny's death as a power game inside the DMLE; the hunt for Ginny's killer was of secondary importance to him.

He listened to the voices that came from behind the closed door to the living room, loud and clear.

Dawlish had appeared, peppered up with a draught of his own importance, shortly after lunch and begun questioning them, starting with dad. However, the idiot hadn't followed even the minimum standard protocol that had been developed for the interviews of those somehow involved in a possible homicide in the last ten years. There was no Auror with them to make sure they wouldn't talk among each other and coordinate their stories. Dad had been allowed to return into the kitchen after his interview, and now it was mum's turn.

Mum's loud and agitated voice could be heard through the door as if she'd sit right beside them. 'I tell you, Auror Dawlish, that woman killed my daughter as sure as my name is Molly Weasley. She's always been jealous that Harry was deeply in love with my Ginny when Cyrus Greengrass forced him to marry his daughter, and my Ginny was far, far prettier than her. Harry is faithful, his feelings don't change, once they develop. He wanted to leave Daphne, anyone with eyes could see that, and now that Ginny was free, he could make his move, but his wife obviously doesn't want to let him go, she said as much at Veterans Ball when she attacked my poor daughter out of the blue.'

Great, the idiot hadn't put Privacy Charms on the living room.

More importantly, would Dawlish take mum's diatribe seriously?

His face still hidden in his daughter's hair, he frowned. Of course he would, he wouldn't do his job if he didn't. Even so, there was a difference between following a lead or using a lead for your own agenda.

Dawlish wasn't happy that he'd been passed over for Head Auror, he was a bitter man, so as sure as Merlin was a wizard he'd be looking for a way to prove his worth to the Head of the DMLE. The current head, Eugenia Roper, was a descendant of the Sacred Twenty-Eight family. While the Ropers weren't violent about it, they were still known Pureblood supremacists.

Eugenia's older brother, Geoffrey, held the family seat on the Wizengamot, and was very vocal in his opposition to Harry's faction. Eugenia was close to her brother, there was no doubt she was his link to the house politics of the Ministry, just as he was Harry's. She had only made it that far up the ranks because Harry and his faction had lacked the political clout on the Wizengamot they carried nowadays, and Eugenia had been pushed through with the votes of the then still reasonably strong Pureblood faction, no doubt a good deal of gold had changed hands and greased her way into the office as well. And they'd had to live with the bitch ever since.

He suppressed the cuss word that welled up in him. Hermione would have his head if he swore in front of Rosie.

Eugenia would swoop down on anything that gave her even a remote chance to discredit Harry's reputation, and a murder investigation with Harry's wife as the prime suspect would smell like weeks old carrion to the vulture. She'd also try to get rid of him during the investigations; she'd never approved of Kingsley's decision to make him Head Auror over Dawlish. He'd be a fool to have any illusions about that.

Ron raised his head and exchanged an urgent look with his wife.

Two red spots burnt on her cheekbones, her eyes had a dangerous gleam, and she had her lips pressed into a thin white line. Understanding flickered across her face; she leaned towards him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. 'I need to visit the bathroom.' She got up from the bench, exchanging a look and a nod with Fleur as she did so.

A relieved smile flickered briefly on Fleur's lips.

Ron buried his head in his daughter's hair once again. Thank Merlin Hermione was that quick on the uptake. His position with the Auror Department and his involvement in this particular case made it impossible for him to communicate with Harry and Daphne about the case from now until it was closed. In particular, he couldn't warn them about the nonsense his mother was spouting in her grief and tell them to be prepared for an investigation into Daphne. Hermione, however, had no such restrictions placed upon herself, especially when Dawlish continued to ignore standard procedure and restrict their movements and communication whilst he was conducting interviews.

Hermione returned not even five minutes later, looking pleased with herself and gave him a small nod, the corners of her mouth turned up in an almost imperceptible curve.

Ron let out a deep breath. They'd done what they could do. Now it was up to Harry to protect his wife and everything that they'd all worked for.

_t.b.c._


	16. Chapter 16

_ **The Ministry of Magic, May 19th 2008** _

Eugenia Roper gripped the armrests of her colourful, yet imposing looking Moroccan Leather chair, and let her eyes survey her office at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement within the Ministry of Magic.

When she'd ascended to this position eight years ago - by her brother's gold and some discreet blackmail - she'd been appalled by the shabby furniture the Ministry of Magic forced the head of such a prestigious and important department as the DMLE to work in, and she'd at once ordered the Roper house elves to remodel the room to be commensurate to a woman of her standing. Merlin knew there was enough antique and bespoke furniture stashed away in the Roper heirloom vault to furnish the whole Ministry.

Each day during the last eight years she had delighted herself with the impressive, yet serene atmosphere of the room: the carved desk that stood on a gracefully faded authentic oriental carpet that picked up the colours of her chair and told of old money at the same time; the oxblood coloured leather Chesterfield couch with matching chairs, grouped around a low table in front of the fireplace, and the gleaming bookcases that lined the walls of the room and showed off an impressive collection of leather-bound books about an astounding array of magical fields, courtesy of the Roper library. Everything was set into the right light by precious Murano lamps, made of hand-blown glass, starting with the chandelier that hung from the ceiling in the middle of the room, to the sconces that adorned the walls between the bookcases, and the small chandelier on her desk.

She relaxed back into her seat. The room never failed to soothe her nerves. Morgana only knew she had reason enough for headaches. Her job, so easy in the beginning, thanks to her brother Geoffrey, who'd kept the Wizengamot out of her hair, but it had become increasingly difficult because of that upstart, Potter, and his eyes and ears at the Ministry, that Blood-traitor spawn Weasley.

The uncritical magical public adored those two, and so did the majority of the Wizengamot. War heroes, they called them.

Eugenia let out a snort. War heroes for what? For dropping out of school and running away? True, Potter had killed the Dark Lord in the end, however, probably anyone could have done that with a lucky shot. Not to mention that things had been easier for her family under the Dark Lord - certainly a lot easier than now.

Of course, the things the Dark Lord had done had been appalling. Even worse, he had endangered the Statute of Secrecy. He would've had to be brought down for that by her own people sooner or later. After all, he'd been just another Half-blood upstart, just like Potter: not worth mentioning, and expendable as soon as he'd outlived his usefulness.

Too bad Potter had acted before that moment had come. That had given him an unfair advantage.

Potter had proved to be remarkably persistent in his professed goal to reform Britain's magical society and push it into the twentieth century. A lot of his success no doubt was owned to the ridiculous adoration he got right up to this very day. Even she as the head of the DMLE had no idea what exactly he'd done; it was all hushed-hushed and strictly confidential, but surely his part in bringing down the Dark Lord had been exaggerated. After all, exaggeration until everything was out of proportion was one of the big vices of wizardkind.

Besides that, he never would've made it this far without the support of Cyrus Greengrass and the faction he led on the Wizengamot. She bared her teeth in an ugly sneer. Cyrus had been a disgrace for the Sacred Twenty-Eight, a Blood-traitor even worse than the Weasleys. They at least didn't have any money and influence they could throw around for that upstart Potter. For Cyrus, however, the sun had risen and fallen with the boy. It had been ridiculous how proud he had been of that upstart. It was as if he was his very own child!

Well, Cyrus was mouldering in his grave for more than two years now, but things hadn't become any better after his daughter had picked up the reins of power. She was married to Potter, of all people, and even more devoted to him than Cyrus had been, if that was possible.

It had been his wife's influence that empowered Potter to push through his preferred candidate for the position of the Head Auror with the blessing of Minister Shacklebolt, over hers and many others, vehement protests. And now she had to live with that pain in the arse Ronald Weasley. Her headaches hadn't stopped ever since then.

Not that Weasley was a bad Head Auror; on the contrary, he was frightfully efficient. How long would it take him to find out about her family's lucrative, little side businesses she had protected ever since she became Head of the DMLE? Geoffrey was smart, he'd used the opportunity to snatch some of Lucius Malfoy's business when he was sent off to Azkaban. Her life would have been a lot easier if the Wizengamot had followed Geoffrey's suggestion and had approved Dawlish as Head Auror.

On top of it all, she now had to deal with the apparent murder of Weasley's sister. No doubt the ill-bred woman had slept with the wrong guy and had got her just deserts; one only had to read what had been printed about her in the newspapers to know this had been coming for a long time. Well, it was one thing to have a fairly accurate guess of what had happened to the unfortunate girl, but an entirely different pair of shoes to nail someone for her death.

The impatient wizarding population, however, would demand results in finding her murderer - soon.

She groaned and raised her hands to her throbbing temples. If only Weasley could lead the investigations, he was a natural at that, and had a vested personal interest on top of it. Thanks to one of the ridiculous laws he and Potter had written for the DMLE, he was out, and she had to make do with Dawlish. Dawlish had his uses, but he was light years away from Weasley's investigative skills.

And if he didn't find and present a culprit really fast, both of their jobs were in danger. Minister Shacklebolt would welcome any pretext to get rid of relicts of the times when the Purebloods still ruled the Ministry, as they should, and Geoffrey would be most displeased with her.

She got up to her seat, walked to the hidden bar in one of the bookcases, and poured herself a generous amount of whisky into a delicate crystal glass. Muggle whisky. As appalling Muggles were, they knew how to brew a good booze. Was there anything better in the world than a glass of Talisker after an exhausting day?

She raised the glass to her nose, inhaled the smoky aroma, sipped, and at once a relaxed smile crept over her face. With the glass in her hand she walked over to the sofa, plopped down and kicked off her high heels. A lazy flick of her wand ignited the flames in the grate. She might as well make herself comfortable until Dawlish deigned to inform her about the results of his no doubt primitive investigations.

* * *

Eugenia startled at a knock on the door. She raised herself on her elbows and blinked into the semi-darkness of the room. The fire in the fireplace had burned down to red-glowing embers. She must've fallen asleep at some point.

Another knock on the door.

Eugenia got up the sofa, fished with her feet for her high heeled pumps, and smoothed down her hair with her hands. She scooted towards her desk, igniting all the lamps in the room with a quick jab of her wand, and sat down, pulled a piece of parchment towards her and grabbed for a quill with the other hand. 'Come in,' she called, the quill poised over the parchment.

The door opened and admitted Dawlish. He held a wad of parchment in his free hand and looked as if Yule had come early.

Now, that was interesting. She schooled her face into a neutral mask, put down the quill, and pointed towards the upholstered visitor leather chair in front of her desk. 'Deputy Head Auror Dawlish; I assume you bring good news?'

Dawlish acknowledged her with a small bow. 'Director Roper.' He sat down, crossed his legs, and adjusted the wad of paper in his lap. 'I think the case is solved. You'll be especially happy regarding the political implications this will undoubtedly have, director.'

Her eyebrows rose for a notch. 'Please, proceed,' she said and leaned back in her chair to listen.

Dawlish adjusted his papers once more.

What a fusspot. Eugenia barely refrained from rolling her eyes.

He harrumphed for good measure and began - finally.

'This morning around a quarter past nine Mr Harry Potter, resident of _The Rectory _in Kent, informed us that Ms Ginevra "Ginny" Weasley had been found dead in her bedroom at _Stinchcombe Hall, _in direct neighbourhood to _The Rectory. _Mr Potter claimed that Ms Weasley had been found by one of his employees, who in his state of shock informed him as the owner of _Stinchcombe Hall, _ratherthan coming straight to the Auror office.'

Eugenia frowned. 'That sounds flimsy to me.'

Dawlish flashed her a brief smile. 'It gets even better. Instead of staying and being available for our investigation team, Mr Potter went straight to see Head Auror Weasley, under the pretext he had to inform Head Auror Weasley about the death of his sister.'

'Well, that might be true. After all, Potter and Weasley are best friends since their Hogwarts days, and Potter is reported to be very close to the whole Weasley clan,' Eugenia threw in.

The Deputy Head Auror gave a noncommittal hum to that and shot her a glance that indicated he'd come back to this piece of information at a later point.

'I led an investigation team to _Stinchcombe Hall.' _He let out a low whistle. 'Have you ever been at that place, director?'

Eugenia shook her head. She had met Potter and his wife at ministerial functions and the New Years Reception of the Wizengamot over the years; apart from that, they moved in different circles. The Potters were the ringleaders of the new, young and liberal elite that had formed after the war, while her own family, with a centuries old and proud Pureblood history, had been pushed aside until it was almost insignificant. They'd never been deemed to be worthy enough to be invited to the sumptuous reception the Potters gave at _Stinchcombe Hall _once a year. Heat shot into her face, and she gripped the armrests of her chair tighter. The gall of these jumped up upstarts.

'Well, it is a veritable palace,' Dawlish went on, oblivious to her anger. 'Marble floors and gilded doors everywhere you look, you know, and well _huge._' He shook his head. 'When we arrived, we found one Gordon McLean standing in front of the house. The man seemed to be in a state of shock. Nevertheless he managed to introduce himself as the Director of the Department of Public Relations and Advertisement of the magical part of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products, the company Potter and his wife own jointly, as it is well known in the magical world. He also told us that Ms Weasley is under contract of Crystal Fairy's as a model.' He scrunched up his nose at that.

He had a point there. What kind of job was being a model? It sounded like being just one step above a simple street hooker. Given the reputation of the Weasley girl, that fitted.

'Apparently, Ms Weasley didn't turn up to an appointment this morning, and McLean went over to _Stinchcombe Hall _to kick her lazy butt in gear. He claims when he arrived the head house elf informed him that Ms Weasley had given orders not to be disturbed until she called for the elves again when she retired to her rooms the day before. So, McLean took it upon himself to enter Ms Weasley's bedroom and haul her out of bed. Only, she already was out of bed, slumped down against the wall of her bedroom, with a crack in her skull.'

Dawlish shifted his papers, pulled out a sheet covered with magical photos, and motioned to hand it to Eugenia.

She held up her hand, palm outwards. 'Thanks, Deputy Head Auror, I'll look at them later, right now please continue your report.'

'As you wish, madam.' Dawlish tucked the sheet back into his wad of papers. 'We questioned the house elves after that, and asked for her routine the day before she died, and her visitors.'

He made a pregnant pause, and a grin appeared on his face. 'It's too good to be true, director. Ms Weasley apparently got an unwelcome surprise visit by one Daphne Potter yesterday afternoon. According to the head elf, Mrs Potter Levitated a petrified and silenced Ms Weasley into the entrance hall of _Stinchcombe Hall, _dumped her on the carpet and yelled at her for about ten minutes. After that, she told the head house elf to take the spells off Ms Weasley in another twenty minutes and left the house.'

Eugenia gasped. 'Does that mean -'

'For all what we knew, Mrs Potter was the last person to see Ms Weasley alive. Even better, the house elf who claims it had seen Mrs Potter leaving the house, belongs to Mrs Potter's husband and owes her loyalty because of that. This means the claims of the elf that Ms Weasley still was alive when Mrs Potter left the house might as well be wrong, because it feels bound to lie for its mistress.'

Her heart skipped a beat, and a broad smile appeared on Eugenia's face. This was too good to be true. If they could nail the murder of the Weasley girl to Potter's wife … Well, it would make Geoffrey's work at the Wizengamot a lot easier in the coming years if Potter's reputation was damaged, this could be huge, and it would probably also save her job. 'What else did the elf say?'

'I stopped the interrogation at that point, since the elf had provided me with a solid lead to follow,' Dawlish said. 'Instead I interviewed McLean, who had finally calmed down enough for that, and afterwards the Weasley family.'

He shifted the papers in his lap and pulled out another sheet of parchment. 'McLean's interview was enlightening, if I may say so. Apparently, McLean was the one to make the negotiations with Ms Weasley's agent and informed Mr Potter and his wife afterwards to get their approval.'

Again, Dawlish paused for the effect, and Eugenia just barely refrained from yelling at the man to get to the point.

'It seemed Mrs Potter was anything but delighted when McLean and his deputy told the Potters about the coup they'd landed on Monday of last week.'

Well, she couldn't blame the woman there; the Sunday newspapers and Monday's _Prophet _had been full with the story of how Potter had ditched his wife in favour of the Weasley girl at Veterans Ball, complete with a lot of speculation about the state of the Potter marriage, and the further relationship between Potter and the Quidditch player. His wife must have been seething about the contract, any woman would have.

Aloud she said, 'I'm not surprised. What else did you drag up about Potter's wife?'

'Mrs Weasley was a bottomless well of information. Terribly distraught, of course, the poor woman. It's the second child she'd lost, and the only daughter. Besides that, she was very vocal in her disapproval of Mrs Potter.' He took another sheet of parchment out of the wad in his lap. 'Her witness is pure dynamite. It seems Mr Potter was not at all inclined to marry his wife in the beginning. Mrs Weasley claims he'd been in a very close relationship with her daughter back then, and had been on the brink of proposing to Ms Weasley, when Cyrus Greengrass butted in. She says he'd blackmailed Potter into marrying his daughter.'

An almost painful jolt run through Eugenia, and she went straight in her chair. 'Blackmail? How by Merlin's beard did he do that? Potter isn't one who can be manipulated easily.'

'Don't I know that,' Dawlish replied with bitter feeling. He took another look on his papers. 'Mrs Weasley claims Potter was seriously ill after the war, though he hid it well from the public, and needed a special and very expensive treatment. The Goblins had stripped Potter of all his cash as compensation for the damage they had suffered because of Potter's break in, and he was broke. Cyrus Greengrass had been appointed as the executor of the estate of Potter's grandfather Fleamont Potter. Potter got an unfathomable huge amount of gold out of that, from what I could discover, however, he couldn't access any of it without Greengrass' consent. Apparently, Greengrass only agreed on giving the gold Potter needed on condition of Potter marrying his daughter. It seemed Potter was desperate enough to agree.'

Eugenia gasped. If Dawlish was right, then this was a gigantic erumpent horn waiting to explode, the wizarding population would be raging with rightful indignation if that became public. If she played her cards right, she could obliterate the Potter/Greengrass alliance once and for all. A wave of warmth spread from her stomach all over her body. Geoffrey would be so proud and grateful.

She leaned forward and put her lower arms on the gold-embossed leather desk pad. 'Alright, Deputy Auror Dawlish, what are the conclusions you've drawn from your investigations?'

Dawlish took a deep breath. 'Ms Weasley and Potter were lovers ten years ago. Potter was about to propose to Ms Weasley, when the despicable machinations of Cyrus Greengrass forced him to give up on the woman he loved and marry Greengrass' daughter instead. Apparently, she was in full compliance with her father's plans, or she wouldn't have played along.'

Eugenia gave a thoughtful nod. Dawlish' reasoning was sound so far.

'It seems Potter and Ms Weasley weren't deterred by that for long and continued their relationship in secret. As of yet, we can only speculate about what else Cyrus Greengrass had in his hands against Potter, but obviously it kept him from divorcing his wife. This seems to have changed after Cyrus Greengrass died. Potter brought his secret love back to England, managed to give her a big chunk of gold under the pretext of a modelling contract for the company he owns, and established her in the most lavish of his many houses, in direct neighbourhood to the house where he lives with his wife.'

'That must have been like a slap in the face to Mrs Potter,' Eugenia said.

'Without any doubt.' Dawlish nodded in agreement. 'According to McLean, she didn't react kindly when she heard of the news. The mother of the victim testified that Mrs Potter threatened to murder her daughter before that. It seems that she decided to take matters into her own hands yesterday afternoon, went to _Stinchcombe Hall, _and killed Ms Weasley with an overpowered Blasting Hex.'

'That sounds logical,' Eugenia said. 'Is it enough?'

Dawlish gave her a knowing grin. 'It's enough to bring her in for questioning. Given we'll find the right M.W.* from the panel of judges who acts as committing magistrate for the job, it will even be enough to obtain an arrest warrant. No doubt the committing magistrate will let her go on bail after the twenty-four hours, Potter's influence is too strong for any other decision. However, a lot can happen in the time she has to spend in the holding cells that makes her repent and plead guilty in front of the committing magistrate.' He gave her a meaningful look.

'Then let's hope she'll see the errors of her ways,' Eugenia said with a pious flutter of her eyelids. She looked at the jewelled watch that was pinned to the lapel of her embroidered robes, and took a folder out of her desk. She opened the folder and let her finger run down of the column of names. 'Burke is on duty in another ten minutes,' she said and closed the folder. 'That will give us time to prepare the petition for an arrest warrant. Burke is a sensible man and will do everything he can to accommodate me.' She gave Dawlish an angelic smile, grabbed for a sheet of parchment and a quill, and began to write.

* * *

_ **The Rectory, May 19th 2008** _

It was close to midnight when Eugenia Apparated to the official Apparition Point at _The Rectory, _together with Dawlish and two Aurors.

They walked towards a gate in a high brick wall that separated the house from the driveway with the Apparition point. The gate swung open, and the windows of the ground floor of the main house in front of them were ablaze with light.

Eugenia's stomach dropped. Morgana curse it. Had their visit been expected? The impression was reinforced when the front door was opened before they could knock, by a house elf clad in a green linen tea towel toga.

'Master and mistress bes waiting for you in the living room,' the small creature said, turned around and led the way down a broad, stone-flagged hallway with an impressive gallery of portraits of the ancestors of the Greengrass family. The magical portraits didn't whisper, they didn't even so much as blink an eye, but their eyes followed them with varied expressions from utter disgust to icy disapproval. A cold shiver run down Eugenia's back, and she breathed when the elf came to a halt in front of a tall door and opened it for them.

'Director Roper and Deputy Head Auror Dawly,' it said.

They hadn't given the elf their names. So, they had been expected. A ring of steel seemed to tighten itself around Eugenia's head and squeezed her temples in a rather uncomfortable way. This was not going anything like they had planned.

She crossed the threshold of the room, Dawlish and the two Aurors in her wake.

Daphne Potter was sitting on the big sofa opposite the fireplace, flanked by her husband and another man with dark, parted hair, cool grey eyes, and clad in impeccable dark blue business robes with just a hint of silver embroidery around the buttonholes. She'd met him before, at court. Anthony Goldstein, partner of Goldstein, Goldstein and Fawley. Her stomach sank when she recognised the probably most accomplished defence barrister in all of magical Britain.

Potter and Goldstein rose when they entered. Daphne Potter, however, kept her seat. Her face was a bland mask, nothing in it gave away if she was scared, though she was unnaturally pale.

As always, Potter's horrible hair stuck out into all directions. In stark contrast to Goldstein he was clad in Muggle jeans and a plaid shirt, just like his wife. Eugenia wrinkled her nose slightly. How disgusting, it seemed the Potters had only little sense of decorum outside of official functions. She, at least, would never dream of wearing these ugly Muggle clothes.

'Director, Deputy Head Auror,' Potter said with a nod. He made no move to shake their hands, and his extraordinary green eyes were cool and alert. Drat, the man knew what was coming. How?

Goldstein mirrored Potter's nod without a word, his eyes appraising them.

Potter stepped back and put a hand on his wife's shoulder. Her hand fluttered for a brief moment, as if she wanted to put it onto his in search for comfort and protection.

The corners of Eugenia's mouth curved up in an imperceptible smile. Mrs Potter wasn't as aloof as she wanted to appear. It would be easy to … persuade her to sign an admission during the course of the night.

'This is not a social call, Mr Potter,' she said, pulled out the warrant of arrest and presented it to Mrs Potter. 'Daphne Potter, in the name of the magical population of England I arrest you under the suspicion of the murder of Ginevra Molly Weasley.'

Her words hung into the silent room. Neither Mrs Potter, nor her husband or Goldstein showed any sign of surprise. Damn it, they had anticipated that and made their preparations. This had the potential to put a spoke of gigantic proportions in their wheel. Dawlish had better turn every stone in this case for more incriminating evidence against the woman.

She held out her hand. 'Your wand, please.'

Mrs Potter flicked her wrist, and a wand slipped into her hand from an invisible holster on her arm. With raised eyebrows Eugenia took the wand and stashed it into the pocket of her robes. Why did the woman think it necessary to carry her wand with her all the time? Hardly any women of her standing did that; she wouldn't be surprised if the wands of at least half of those women gathered dust in a forgotten corner of their houses.

Potter stepped towards his wife, gathered her in his arms, and whispered something into her ear. She replied in such a low voice that the words weren't understandable. Potter gave her a lingering kiss on the forehead and stepped back.

Daphne Potter turned towards her. 'I'm ready, director,' she said in a calm and collected voice.

Goldstein moved beside her. 'I am coming with Mrs Potter,' he said, his chin raised slightly, steel glinting in his eyes as if challenging her and Dawlish.

Eugenia gritted her teeth. She should have expected this. Thanks to the laws passed after the war she couldn't deny Mrs Potter legal representation during her interrogation, until she was brought into the holding cells of the Ministry.

Then in one foul swoop it became even worse and her heart plummeted into her shoes.

'Mipsy,' Potter called. Another green-clad elf _plopped _into the room. 'You're going to stay with your mistress. You're not going to leave her side and are going to watch over her, no matter what happens. If anyone tries to get at Mistress Daphne outside of the interrogations, when Mister Anthony isn't with her, you are going to inform your mother. Mistress Daphne is not supposed to eat anything given to her at the Ministry. Your mother will bring her everything she needs.'

Damned, who had told Potter about the ancient law that allowed a member of the Ancient Houses to have a personal servant with them when they were under arrest? All their best laid plans just went down the drain. She barely suppressed an angry growl.

'When is the hearing about bail?' Goldstein asked.

She cleared her throat. 'Around noon tomorrow, courtroom one.'

'I'll arrange everything with Gringotts first thing tomorrow morning,' Potter said, his jaw set in a grim line.

There wasn't anything more to add. Suppressing a growl of frustration she motioned with her chin towards the two Aurors, and they took Mrs Potter, escorted by Goldstein, in their midst. They walked them out of the room, followed by a stone-silent Eugenia and a now very subdued Dawlish.

_t.b.c._

* * *

*Member of Wizengamot


	17. Chapter 17

_ **Malfoy Manor, May 20th 2008** _

Lucius Malfoy stood in front of the floor length mirror in his huge bedroom at Malfoy Manor. He had just taken a shower, and now took stock of the image of his naked body with cold, silvery eyes that betrayed none of his feelings.

Ten years of Azkaban had turned his hair white before its time, no longer was there any trace of gold and the once full mane had become thin and brittle; he was bald at the temples and - shame of shame - the pale skin shimmered through his hair at the crown of his head. Deep furrows marred his forehead and ran from his aristocratic nose to the perpetually downturned corners of his mouth. His sallow, greyish skin hung down from his cheeks in deep folds, a look that reminded him of the bulldogs one of his contemptible Muggle neighbours used to breed.

His eyes wandered further down on his body. Nothing of its muscular suppleness was left. Instead, he'd developed a pot-belly, its folds following the rules of gravity and partly covering his manhood.

That was another part of his life they had taken from him.

Narcissa knew her duties, and she had waited for him in his bed when he came up from the library where he had holed himself up after his return.

He had sent her away; ten years in that hellhole had as good as castrated him, there was no wood left in his wand.

The look of relief that flickered for a split second across her bland face had almost been comical to watch, hadn't it been another reminder of what he had lost.

When had she begun to hate him?

They hadn't married out of love; it had been an arranged marriage to keep the bloodlines pure. However, they'd had a lot in common, and soon had developed mutual affection and respect. The birth of their beloved son only had confirmed their feelings for each other; they had bonded over their deep love for their only child, and their desire to give him the best in life, like their little wonder deserved.

Everything had changed after that fatal night in the Hall of Prophecies. At first, everything had gone according to the plan he had developed. The Dark Lord had planted the false memory of Black's capture into Potter's head. Like the Gryffindor fool the boy was, he had charged into a rescue mission for the mutt without thinking. Kreacher denying to know anything about Black's whereabouts - of course coached by Narcissa - had done the rest.

His carefully developed plan had gone to hell in a handbasket the moment Potter decided to fight, instead of being turned into a blubbering mass of fear in the face of the Dark Lord's most loyal and dangerous servants, and hand over the damned prophecy.

The Dark Lord had never forgiven him for that.

He had been prosecuted and shipped off to Azkaban to serve his sentence. He hadn't been concerned about that; the Dark Lord had returned, it would only be a matter of weeks, at the most, until he'd be a free man once again.

What he hadn't counted on the Dark Lord seeking his revenge on Narcissa and Draco while he was in prison.

The Dark Lord had chosen to "honour" the Malfoys by making their manor his residence, and paying for his quest to overpower the Ministry from their coffers. His proud wife had been reduced to a mere decoration in her own house; Bellatrix had been the lady of the manor, and had made sure the Dark Lord's orders were followed.

Narcissa could have coped with that; she was a Slytherin, after all, and would have bidden her time, cunning and patient, until she'd found an opportunity to regain what was hers.

She'd never forgiven him that the Dark Lord selected their only child as the weapon to punish him harder than any Torture Curse ever would have managed.

Oh, on the outside it had been a great honour. The Dark Lord had selected Draco to be marked at Lughnasadh, and then had given him the important task to kill Dumbledore, so that Hogwarts would be vulnerable and easy to conquer the moment the Dark Lord decided to strike.

He and Narcissa had shared a look over Draco's blonde head. The boy had trembled with anticipation, eager to prove himself. The cold dread that gnawed at his insides had been mirrored in Narcissa's eyes: the boy was deluding himself, he wasn't a killer, he wasn't hard enough to do what must be done. The Dark Lord had him set up to fail while Lucius watched, and then he'd kill him before the eyes of his parents, slowly and painfully, to complete their torture.

Narcissa had moved out of their bedroom that very night.

Lucius heaved a sigh and cast another look at his image in the mirror.

He'd been a tall, handsome man in his prime when he, the head of the Noble House of Malfoy, had to submit himself to a politically motivated trial, for no other reason than he'd wanted to restore the glory of the wizarding world and had failed. His gleaming, white-blonde hair had been full and well-groomed, and his lean, yet muscular body had been clad in bespoken robes out of the finest Acromantula silk. His gold and cunning had secured him the place of the power behind the throne in a Ministry of Magic under that fool Fudge.

Everything he'd achieved had begun to crumble under his feets the moment Potter decided to fight in the Hall of Prophecies.

He gritted his teeth until his jaw hurt. He had lost everything, and thanks to Potter and Cyrus Greengrass he'd had to serve each and every single day of the ten years they had given him in that farce of a trial, almost immediately after Potter, that worthless blinder, had by some freak streak of luck managed to destroy the Dark Lord.

His heart pounded in his chest, the blood rushed in his ears, and he curled his fists, the nails digging into the palms of his hands, until his body shook, and a sharp, burning pain in his chest jolted through him, as if an invisible force had pressed a branding iron on his heart.

He took a laboured breath, uncurled his fist, and forced himself to calm down. The pounding of his heart receded, the burning pain, however, stayed.

Another souvenir from Azkaban that could be laid down at Potter's door.

He turned, walked to the huge four poster bed with slow, short steps, laid down on the silver-embroidered, green silk sheets, and closed his eyes.

Six month, at the most, the healer at Azkaban had told him, a lot less if he didn't stay calm, and all the healing magic at their disposal wasn't able to cure the damage his heart had suffered.

Too much exposure to Dark Magic, had been the verdict. Maybe a cure with the _Renouvellement _Potion would have worked, but his heart was already too weak for that when the reason for his increasing health problems no common potion had been able to cure finally was determined.

Six month.

Precious little time to get back at Potter, repay him for the destruction of his life and family.

Another wave of pain hit him, and he flung his hand to his chest.

Was it worth it? If something happened to Potter, he'd be carried back to Azkaban in a heartbeat. His stomach turned to a ball of ice, the pain in his chest intensified, and his hand clawed in his bare skin. Not again; he didn't want to die in prison.

He clenched his jaw against the pain and the bile that rose in his throat and left a vile taste in his mouth.

It was time to be honest with himself; Azkaban had broken him, he didn't have it in him to fight anymore. Potter had made himself enough enemies; there were more than enough among them who'd gladly take his place and send Potter to hell.

Hell surely had an especially warm place in store for the bastard.

_t.b.c._


	18. Chapter 18

_ **The Rectory, May 20th 2008** _

The sun rose early in May. It was not even five in the morning when the darkness of the night became lighter and gradually shifted into the grey of dawn.

Harry let out a deep breath and got up from the upholstered chair next to the window of the master bedroom he shared with Daphne at _The Rectory. _He hadn't had a wink of sleep that night; he hadn't even tried to go to sleep last night, after Daphne had been arrested and carried off to the Ministry. Instead, his thoughts had followed her, willed her to be strong and not to break and give a false confession under the questioning that Dawlish and Roper would subject her to.

At least Anthony was with her; he'd make sure all her rights were observed. He'd be forever grateful to his old friend from D.A. days that he'd responded immediately to Harry's urgent message for assistance and the fact that he had stayed until Roper made the arrest.

There was no doubt they'd try to manipulate Daphne into a confession, most likely by any means they deemed necessary. The opportunity for Roper, and by extension Dawlish, to kill three birds with one stone was too good to be missed. They could present the magical public with the murderer of the famous Quidditch star, present themselves as strong defenders of the law, and marginalise him in the same moment, and all that without a trial, since after Daphne pleading guilty all the court had to decide about was the penalty. Though that wasn't going to be a long discussion, either: Azkaban for life would be the only possible outcome.

Not for one minute would they ask if Daphne was actually guilty…

His body tensed until his muscles quivered, and his nostrils flared. No, he wouldn't allow it, he would stop them, had to stop them. Heat consumed him, he turned around and stormed from the room, down the staircase and along the long hallway, towards the door to the terrace at the front of the house.

The portraits, roused from their slumber, called after him.

He paid them no heed, yanked the door open, and ran out of the house, down the few steps that led into the still dark park.

He ran and ran until his breath came in short puffs, loud in the quietness of the young day, and he didn't stop until he reached the wall at the other side of the park. Out of breath, he put his hands on his thighs and leaned forward. Sweet Merlin, what was he supposed to do? How could he help his Daphne?

Even ten years after the war there were still significant issues within magical Britain's government, and the DMLE was most definitely not exempt from these issues. The stories Ron had told him… He shook his head. If only they had some leverage they could get rid of Roper; it all came down to her. Her brother's gold had bought her the way to the top of the DMLE at a time when the old Pureblood networks had still been strong. During the eight years of her leadership she'd not only allegedly protected her brother's more unsavory businesses, but had also managed to cover her own tracks in doing so extremely well. Ron, Dean and Seamus were on her case since Ron had become Head Auror, discreetly, of course, and so far without success.

Now the bitch was free to use Ginny's murder for her own means, and set up Daphne as the culprit, without having to fear much opposition, since Ron had to stay away from the investigations team until the case was closed.

Daphne! How was she doing right now? Had she been given time to sleep, or had she been held in interviews all night long? She'd been so unwell ever since his return from his trip to the Continent. Thank Merlin she had Mipsy with her, the elf would have informed him through Matty and the mysterious communication channels among house elves if something was amiss.

He let out a deep breath, straightened, and looked around.

His helpless anger had carried him through the park towards the wall that separated the park from the Greengrass family cemetery. The wrought iron gate was just left of him.

Daphne came here at least once a week, often alone, at other times together with him. His need to visit the graves of their family wasn't as strong as hers, however, as he now looked at the wall that hid their graves, an overwhelming need to talk to Cyrus welled up in him. Merlin knew he could use Cyrus' advice right now!

He pushed open the iron gate. The first rays of the rising sun peeked over the wall, bathing three graves in the middle of the cemetery in a golden light. Marty and Monty, the two house elves who cared for the vast gardens of _The Rectory, _had put up a white stone bench for Daphne in front of the three graves a couple of weeks after the tragedy, with an amazing Cushioning and Heating Charm on it.

Harry sat down on the bench and looked at the graves. Cyrus' grave came first, with Isabella to his right, and then Tori. To Cyrus' left there was some open space. He'd never asked Daphne why, he'd just known that the empty spaces were meant for Daphne and him one day.

The sun ascended, bathing more and more graves of the Greengrass' ancestors in its blazing light, until the last grey shadows of the dawn had been banished. Harry looked around; beautiful flowers adorned all the graves, and the droplets of dew on their leaves glistened in the morning sun like diamonds. It was peaceful here, and quiet. The only sounds being heard was the birdsong in the trees of the park.

The tension left his body, a soft, warm breeze dried the sweat on his face and neck, and he welcomed the chilling sensation with a deep sigh. He needed to get a grip on himself, he wouldn't be of any use to Daphne if he didn't manage to keep a cool and level head, no matter how much her arrest and the prospect of a trial for murder had freaked him out. Daphne needed him, now more than ever, and he'd be damned if he let her down.

For a very long time he looked at the grave of his late father-in-law, seeking advice from the man who had loved Daphne as much as he did in a silent, one-sided dialogue, while the sun climbed higher in the sky.

The soft breeze ruffled his hair, as if a father's hand was carding through his unruly locks, and warmth permeated his body. A reluctant smile spread over his face.

'Thank you, Cyrus,' he whispered, and got up. He cast a last, long look at the three graves. 'Don't worry, I promise I will protect her with everything I have.' Then he turned and left the cemetery. He had work to do, and he'd better get it done asap.

* * *

Ten minutes later he sat in their study and wrote a letter to Nicholas Greco. Roper and Dawlish might not be inclined to look for the real perpetrator, but they couldn't stop him from conducting his own investigations.

He cast a look at his wristwatch. It was still early, too early to call anyone or send a Patronus. However, there was one place in the wizarding world that was open for business twentyfour/seven. He'd have to talk to the Goblins, anyway, and make sure a large amount of gold from his private vault was ready and available to be transferred to the vaults of the Ministry, should Daphne be let out on bail.

Anthony was positive that bail would be granted, the judge had no legal ground to refuse the petition, even though Roper most likely would protest it. She needed to keep Daphne in her clutches, in the hopes of pressuring her into a confession. The bail amount would likely be outrageous, that much he was sure of.

Harry walked down to the living room and took the Floo to the private Floo connection Gringotts provided for their most affluent customers. Two hours later, everything was settled, and it was finally time for the next point on his agenda.

Back at _The Rectory,_ he raised his wand and sent out a number of Patroni, each of them with the same message, then went into the kitchen for a quick cup of tea and a bite of toast.

'Did Mipsy already contact you for Mistress Daphne's breakfast?' he asked while he munched on a dry slice of toast that tasted like cardboard, between sips of tea.

Matty gave him a disapproving look, and he suppressed a smile. She was miffed at him because he had refused her offer to prepare him something more substantial than dry toast. However, he knew he wouldn't have been able to get it down and keep it down.

'Matty brought Mistress Daffy her breakfast while Master Harry was still at Gringotts,' the elf answered.

A jolt went through Harry, and his fingers that held the mug became cold. 'How is she?' he asked in a low voice.

Matty's ears drooped. 'Pale and cold and very sad. Master Harry had best be getting Mistress Daffy out of there.'

'I will, Matty,' he said.

_The Daily Prophet _had been delivered earlier and lay on the kitchen counter; he flicked through it, nibbling on his toast as he read. The news of Ginny's death had made the headlines of the day - which was hardly surprising - and Skeeter's article all but screamed at the Auror Department to arrest someone, anyone, for her murder. There was also a short notice about a press release from the DMLE late Tuesday night, stating they were expecting to arrest the perpetrator before the day was much older. The fact that the word "alleged" was missing in that sentence didn't escape him. No doubt Daphne's impending arrest had been an established fact with Roper and Dawlish by the time of the press release. The article was one more proof - as if he needed it - that they planned to use Daphne as a means to their own ends.

What little appetite he'd had left with that thought, he emptied his mug into the kitchen sink and discarded the remains of the slice of toast into the waste bin. Another look at his wristwatch told him it was almost time.

'I'll be at headquarters for the next couple of hours, until it's time for Mistress Daphne's hearing,' he said to the elf. 'I assume that it will take some time until Mistress Daphne is released from the holding cells once bail has been determined. So have a light tea ready for her, will you, Matty? I doubt she'll be able to eat much, not with her stomach problems lately.'

The elf gave him a knowing look. 'Matty will prepare tea for Mistress Daffy.' She turned her back to Harry and began polishing the spotless kitchen counter. 'No worries, Master Harry, Mistress Daffy bes eating for two soon.'

He sighed. 'I hope so. I'm going to take her to see a healer as soon as possible. This has been going on for too long.'

In response, Matty gave him a look over her shoulder he couldn't decipher. Was the small creature laughing at him?

He shrugged, walked back into the living room and took the Floo to headquarters.

He'd expected to be the first one in the magical section's huge conference room, however, as soon as he stepped into the room a small figure flung itself at him. A mop of bushy hair in his face, he was squeezed in one of Hermione's trademark hugs.

'How are you holding up, Harry? Dean sent Ron a Patronus around midnight informing him -' She broke off, stepped back and worried her lower lip between her teeth. 'Is there anything I can do for either of you?'

Harry patted her shoulder. 'Be our friend, like you always are.'

She gave him a tremulous smile. 'I will. Ron sends his love; he's awfully sorry he can't help you, but you know how it is.'

He pulled her towards himself into a small hug. 'You've already done more than I could expect when you sent us that Patronus yesterday, Hermione. I'll be forever grateful for that. Thanks to your warning, they didn't catch us with our robes off. Daphne had her barrister with her during the interrogations, and Mipsy to take care of her and protect her for the rest of the time,' he whispered into her ear.

Hermione let out a deep breath. 'Thank Merlin! Ron was so worried for her.'

Lisa and Fleur walked towards them.

'Excuse me, Hermione,' Harry said and pulled away from her. He turned to their personal assistants. 'Will you please set up everything for the meeting?'

They nodded, and Harry walked to his place at the head of the table and sat down.

One by one, the heads of the departments of the magical part of Crystal Fairy trickled into the room and sat down at the conference table. Every face turned towards Harry, some worried, like Lisa's, Fleur's and Hermione's, some guarded, like Director McLean's, and many of them downright curious.

As soon as everyone was present, Harry cleared his throat. He was well aware of the unusual sight he presented to his subordinates. Instead of an impeccable robe of Acrumantula silk from Twilfit and Tattings over a bespoke suit from Savile Row that he usually dressed in when at work, he still wore the jeans and plaid flannel shirt he'd put on yesterday morning. The sleepless night spent in the armchair in their bedroom had done nothing to improve his looks. His shirt was rumpled, and the stubble on his chin betrayed he hadn't taken the time to shave this morning.

In fact, he'd only cast a few Hygiene Charms on himself. There was a message behind his unkempt appearance; Cyrus had taught him the importance of the messages sent out with your clothing right from the beginning of his tutoring.

Daphne hadn't taken a change of clothes with her, and there wasn't much room for personal hygiene in the Ministry's holding cells, except for a toilet bowl and a sink the inhabitants of one cell had to share. Daphne would have asked Mipsy to perform Hygiene Charms on her, and the nifty charm his wife had used on him to relieve his bladder during his stay at the _Hôtel Dieu Magique_. Besides that, she'd look as unkempt as he did this morning when she would be brought in front of the judge.

Him looking just as his wife would send a clear message to the wizarding world: they were one, and he stood by his wife and cared for her, more than he cared for his personal comfort.

Maybe that would get Skeeter or at least the lonesome one witch or wizard thinking. Hope died last, or so the saying went.

The expectant silence in the room roused him from his musings. He cleared his throat once more and looked at the expectant faces on both sides of the long table.

'I suppose you all have read the _Daily Prophet _this morning and are aware that Ginevra Weasley, the face of the current advertising campaign of our company, has been killed.'

Murmurs of agreement and dismay went around the table.

He clenched his fists. Merlin, this was so hard. 'What is not yet in the prophet - Mrs Potter was arrested for Ms Weasley's murder late yesterday night.'

His announcement was met with shocked silence, though Hermione, Lisa, and Fleur wore resigned expressions on their faces. Of course Hermione and Fleur knew what had happened after Dean's Patronus to Ron, and they had then warned Lisa.

'You're taking the mickey!' A male voice broke the silence. 'There's no way Daphne would ever kill someone.'

Harry gave the owner of the voice a faint smile. It belonged to the Director of the Department of Human Resources and Finances, a man in his late sixties, with a circle of wiry, short hair around the bald spot on top of his head, and sharp, dark eyes. He was a long-time employee, and one of Daphne's oldest friends in the company who had taught her the secrets of the trade together with Cyrus when she was still a young girl. When Harry came into the picture, he had extended his goodwill to him and was a never-ending well of experience and good advice.

'Thank you, Raymond,' Harry said with a short nod towards the director. 'Your vote of confidence means a lot to Daphne and me.' He picked up the pitcher of water in front of him, poured himself a glass and took a sip. Merlin, he was as parched as if he'd run a mile. 'Of course Daphne didn't do it,' he said, and put his glass back on the table.

The certainty in his voice caused some raised eyebrows and a lot of whispers around the table. He met them with a frown, which was enough to subdue them.

'I'm going to take a leave of absence until Daphne is cleared of all charges. How long that will be is as yet undetermined, but my place is by her side, as you all will understand, I'm certain.'

This caused some more whispers, and his lips curled into a faint sneer. No, some of the people around him wouldn't understand why he did this. However, those who counted to him gave him approving nods: Hermione, Fleur, Lisa, but also Raymond and Directors McLean and Abbott.

'If there's anything we can do for you, just name it, Harry,' Raymond said, and Director McLean added, 'I'd better prepare a press statement, though I'm sure that won't satisfy the baying hyenas. Be prepared for a press conference tomorrow at the latest, Mr Potter.'

Harry gave McLean a short nod, and turned towards Raymond. 'Actually, you're going to bear the brunt of my decision, Raymond. You'll be my substitute for the time I'm gone.'

Raymond's eyes widened slightly. Other than that, he showed no sign of surprise. 'You can count on me, Harry.'

'Good.' Harry turned to the rest of the staff. 'Please, report to Raymond as you did to me. Raymond and I will work out a schedule to keep me up to date about everything I need to know. That's all for the time being, I think.'

Subdued murmurs and whispers broke out as the heads of department filed out of the room, though all of them stopped to shake his hand. Hermione gave him another of her rib-cracking hugs.

Harry motioned to Raymond and McLean to stay behind. Together, the three men worked out a press statement pertaining to Ginny's murder and Daphne's arrest that hopefully would keep the press out of Harry's hair for a couple of days. Another hour was spent with Raymond, while he informed him about the most important ongoing projects, and they worked out a schedule for daily meetings_._

The next hour Harry spent in a similar meeting at the Muggle part of the company, though he gave a sudden, severe illness on Daphne's part as the reason for him taking a leave of absence.

* * *

Greco walked into his office at ten o'clock sharp.

'Good morning, Mr Greco.' Harry rose from his chair with an outstretched hand. 'I have another job for you.' With a motion of his hand he invited Greco to sit down in the visitors chair.

Greco's face didn't betray any surprise. 'Did Head Auror Weasley ask you to obtain my help for some discreet investigations in the U.S.A. that bypass the official lines because the death of his sister?'

Harry startled; of course, the man had to think that, Daphne's arrest had been too late at night to make it to the newspapers yet. Though that would change soon, Lisa had informed him she'd heard on the Wizarding Wireless that Roper had scheduled a press conference around eleven about the progress of the investigations in Ginny's death that would be broadcasted by the Wizarding Wireless, and had also hinted at an arrest.

'Much worse,' he replied. 'It has not made the news yet, but yesterday night Daphne was arrested by the Head of the DMLE for Ginny's murder.'

'What?' Greco sat bolt upright and gaped at him. He blinked a couple of times, then relaxed. 'It's a political manoeuvre, of course; Roper wants to get rid of you, or your influence on the Wizengamot, to be more precise.' He made a face. 'Cyrus put me on her trail even before her promotion to Head of the DMLE was confirmed by the Wizengamot. He detested her, and was sure she and her precious brother had dirt on their hands, if not blood. Unfortunately, the Roper siblings belong to the very few people I didn't manage to unearth anything discriminating about.' He gave Harry a sharp look. 'Do you want me to investigate into Roper once again?'

Harry shook his head. 'Not into Roper, no. Daphne's lawyer informed me that the DMLE has to prove her guilt beyond any reasonable doubt. For her defence that means to dig up if Ginny had other visitors after Daphne on Monday night, or if there are people out there who might have been pissed off enough at Ginny to blow her into a wall. Given what you found out about her ongoing affair during her four marriages, I have no doubt there are. I remember that her first husband was rather put out about the compensation he had to pay her.'

Greco pulled out his notepad and biro and made some notes. '_Cherchez l'homme _for a change?' he asked with a faint grin over the rim of his notepad.

'Something like that, yeah, Ginny was never without a bloke in her bed for long after I broke up with her. You'd also want to look out for her lover's business connections. Rumour says his family is involved with the Italian mob, magical as well as Muggle. Maybe Ginny got involved into something, or her murder was a punishment for him.' He also told Greco what he'd learned from Director McLean about Ginny's last hours, and what Daphne had told him about her encounter with Ginny.

'Consider it done, Mr Potter.' He put away his notepad and biro. 'About the other matter we discussed the other day… I have informed my contacts in the U.S.A. and they will look into the pasts of Cadwallader and Williams, and also of Procter and Frudge. I'm afraid it is too soon for results yet.'

'I have complete trust into you, Mr Greco, you never let my father-in-law down and I have no doubt that you will continue to serve me equally as well,' Harry said and got to his feet as a sign the meeting was at an end.

Greco followed suit; thank Merlin the man had never been one of many words.

He waited until the door had closed behind Greco, picked up the phone, and looked on his wristwatch before he punched in the numbers. There was still a lot left to do until he had to leave for Daphne's hearing, so he'd better get in gear. He'd never be able to forgive himself if wasn't there for her every step of the trial she had to face.

_t.b.c._


	19. Chapter 19

_ **London, May 20th 2008** _

Nicholas Greco walked down the steps of the office building of the Muggle part of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products after his meeting with Harry Potter and looked at his wristwatch. It was still early in the day; no time like the present to start the investigations Mr Potter had asked for.

He gritted his teeth; he'd watched Daphne Potter growing up from a small girl with pigtails, who played with her dolls at Cyrus' feet whenever he'd been called to _The Rectory, _into an awkward teenager, insecure of herself and her abilities, and then into a beautiful young woman who'd made her most unwilling husband fall deeply in love with her against all odds. She didn't deserve to be made the plaything of the dubious plans of one Eugenia Roper. He'd do anything and everything within his power to get Daphne out of the clutches of that hag.

He looked around; no one was near, so he slipped into a service passage between two buildings, spun on the spot, and disappeared.

The next moment he stood at the top of _Stoadshead Hill_ and looked down at _The Burrow, _residence of the Weasley family. Long years ago, when Arthur Weasley had been promoted Head of the Department Against Misuse of Muggle Artefacts, Cyrus had asked him to investigate the family once more. The first time he'd investigated the family had been some time after Mr Potter's return to the magical world, and when it became apparent that he was best friends with the youngest son of the Weasley family.

Cyrus' concerns had been well grounded. Mr Potter had been an impressionable eleven-year-old, new to the wizarding world, and with no clue that he was the sole heir to a vast fortune. Should they have wanted to, it would have been easy to manipulate him.

However, the Weasleys had not once shown any interest in Mr Potter's gold - except the daughter, of course. They seemed to be about the only people in the magical world who genuinely cared for the wellbeing of the young man. None of his investigations had come up with anything incriminating; quite the contrary, in fact.

He took another look at the house and its surroundings.

The house hadn't changed at all, it was still crooked in a way that defied the laws of gravity, and seemed to be held upright only by an obscene amount of Stabilising Charms, a testament to the magical strength of its owners. The apple trees in the orchard were just about to shed their blossoms, and the odd chicken scratched in the dirt of the overgrown vegetable beds that seemed to be developed to an impossible degree for this time of the year.

He walked down the hill towards the house and rang the bell at the front door; it took some time until the sound of slow, dragging steps behind the door indicated someone was going to answer.

It was Arthur Weasley; Nicholas almost flinched back as his eyes fell on the man, and he gulped. Arthur Weasley looked as if he'd aged twenty years since he last saw him at the Ministry a couple of weeks ago. He cleared his throat. 'Mr Weasley? My name is Nicholas Greco. I'm a private investigator. Mr Potter contracted me to investigate the death of your daughter,' he said in a calm voice.

'Harry sent you?' a woman's voice asked. 'Why? Ginny's murderess has been arrested we've been told this morning.'

Nicholas looked around the Weasley patriarch. A plump woman with grey tinged red hair walked down the hallway, her chocolate brown eyes red rimmed and puffy from too much crying. The likeness to the dead Quidditch star was faint, but it was there. Molly Weasley, the mother of the victim. She'd also changed horribly since he last saw her when he made his first investigation into the Weasley family. The happy, bustling woman he remembered was no more; in front of him stood an old woman, and even though she had kept her plumpness, her skin hung down from her cheeks and arms as if it belonged to a bigger person.

'Well, Mrs Weasley, if you've been told about the arrest, you probably also know that the DMLE accuses Mrs Potter of having killed your daughter. Mr Potter, however, doesn't believe that. He contracted me to investigate the last hours of Ms Ginevra Weasley's life and find the real culprit.'

Molly Weasley's pale cheeks became crimson. She raised her arm and pointed towards the gate of the property. 'Out! Leave and never come back! The murderess of my Ginny has already been found and arrested! That bitch said at Veterans Ball right in front of me that she was going to kill her, and she made good on her threat a week later!'

Arthur Weasley heaved a deep and heavy sigh. Languidly as though the weight of the world rested atop his body, he turned around and put both hands on the shoulders of his wife and said in a voice laden with despair, 'Stop it, Molly. I already told you that you made a dangerous mistake when you yelled out these accusations in Dawlish' presence. Harry has killed V-Voldemort, and strives to better our world, but there are still more old Pureblood alliances at work in the Ministry than you know. Dawlish belongs to one of them, and he acted on your accusations and arrested Daphne because it fit into his agenda. I'd be surprised if there was any more evidence that implicated Daphne than their encounter at the ball.'

He took a deep breath, as if gathering strength, and squeezed the shoulders of his still enraged looking wife. 'I'm going to give Daphne the benefit of the doubt, Molly, and if Harry wants to do his own investigations into Ginny's death, that's alright with me. Given the way the DMLE has handled the case so far I doubt Daphne is going to have a fair trial. I'd not be surprised if soon the oh so conventional unnamed sources in the D.M.L.E. will leak information about the case and seemingly damning tidbits about Daphne's character and her marriage to Harry will be spread next.'

Molly Weasley shook his hands from her shoulders, huffed and glared at her husband. 'I told you that family is bad news the day Harry got that owl from Cyrus Greengrass, Arthur. Instead of listening to me, you encouraged the boy to get into contact with him. His brother was a Death Eater, for Merlin's sake! See where your weakness got us! Ginny would still be alive, had Harry married her, as he should have, instead of that bitch!' With that she turned around and stomped back into the house.

Arthur Weasley gave Nicholas a weak smile. 'So much for the willingness of my wife to cooperate.' He pointed towards a bench next to the front door. 'Let's sit down there and talk; I highly doubt Molly will take it kindly right now if I invited you into the living room.'

He stepped out of the house and closed the door behind him. The two men sat down on the bench.

'How can I help Harry and Daphne, Mr Greco?'

Nicholas sucked in a quick breath, and did a mental reassessment of the man who sat before him. Now, this was interesting. While he could understand Molly Weasley's hostility to a certain degree, he hadn't counted on Arthur Weasley openly opposing his wife and offering his cooperation so easily. Molly Weasley had the reputation of a rash, stubborn harridan in the wizarding world, and Arthur Weasley was perceived to be mild-mannered, and well, for want of a better word, was pussy whipped.

Given the public observations regarding Molly Weasley seemed to be accurate, though he'd have to give the woman some slack for the grief she was so obviously going through, it appeared that the public had seriously underestimated the Senior Weasley male. Arthur Weasley seemed to have more backbone than anyone gave him credit for.

As if he read his thoughts, a faint smile appeared on Arthur Weasley's grief-lined face. 'Contrary to my wife I never thought Harry and Ginny would make a good match; they were too different. The moment I saw him together with Daphne, however, and got to know her, I knew she was perfect for him. It took some time for Harry to notice that, too, but in the end he managed to pull his head out of his arse.' He chuckled quietly.

Nicholas joined his laughter. 'I know what you mean, Mr Weasley. I've watched those two together and often thought the same.'

He sobered and pulled out his notepad and biro from the pocket of his Muggle suit. 'What can you tell me about the life of your daughter, Mr Weasley?'

Arthur Weasley heaved another big sigh. 'Not much, I'm afraid. You see, the last war had a horrible impact on my family, and especially on Ginny. She and Harry were Hogwarts sweethearts in her fifth year and his sixth. He broke up with her after Dumbledore was murdered and then left on his mysterious quest, together with my youngest son and his wife. Ginny was forced to return to Hogwarts. When she came back home for Christmas that year, she had become… distant. Oh, she'd still be affectionate, but she wouldn't share her thoughts and dreams with us any longer.'

He wiped away a tear from the corner of his eye. 'It wasn't any better when she returned for Easter break. We had to go into hiding, and she'd hole herself up in her room for hours. Then came the Battle of Hogwarts.' He took out his handkerchief, blew his nose, and Banished the handkerchief away with a short flick of his wand.

'Our whole family fought in the battle. Fred, the older one of our twins, got killed. It almost destroyed Molly. Ginny was grieving, too; we all were grieving and trying to pick up the pieces of our lives after the war. Ginny and Harry got back together after the battle. I guess it was their way to cope and move on.' He paused. 'However, something was off with Ginny. The way she used to look at Harry sometimes… Like a Kneazle watching a mouse. It was as if she resented him for some perceived wrongdoing he had no idea he had committed, and waited for her chance to strike. That was when I knew they had no future together, and that Harry, if he pursued the relationship with my daughter, was in for a lot of grief and tears.'

He pressed his lips into a thin line and looked at Nicholas. 'I love - loved - my daughter, but I also love Harry. How do you tell a young man who has become like a son to you that the girl he's madly in love with is bad news, especially if said girl is your own daughter you ought to cherish?'

'I suppose that's impossible,' Nicholas said.

Arthur Weasley let out a harsh laugh. 'Tell me about that. When Cyrus Greengrass brought up the family agreement between his daughter and Harry, I thought it was heaven sent, and encouraged Harry to let go of Ginny and make the best of his relationship with Daphne.' A smile crept over his face. 'It was my most successful attempt to influence the future of one of my children, if I may say so.'

The next moment, his face became sober. 'I wasn't that successful with Ginny. She became even more distant the moment Harry told us of his decision to marry Daphne. A couple of weeks later she told us that she'd signed a contract to play for a Quidditch team in the States. She was of age, so we could do nothing about it, and I thought that maybe new surroundings with new friends would help her to overcome her demons.'

He paused once again. 'That was before I learned that man came with her.'

Nicholas eyebrows rose up at that. Of course he knew about Ginny Weasley's secret relationship with a Slytherin while she was supposed to be Mr Potter's steady girlfriend. It had been damned hard to catch her in the act, so to speak. He wouldn't have thought Arthur Weasley had known, too.

'That man?'

'Blaise Zabini, Ginny's agent,' Arthur said in a curt voice. 'I had no idea she … had something going on with him, until I overheard them one night in the orchard while Harry and Daphne were on their honeymoon. It was quite enlightening. Obviously they'd become an item sometime during that last year at Hogwarts, and had planned relieving poor Harry of a lot of his gold by Ginny marrying him and filing for divorce a couple of years later. Well, that ship had sailed when Cyrus Greengrass butted in. I'll be forever thankful for that.'

He crossed his legs and folded his hands over one knee. 'Obviously, Ginny and Zabini modified their plan and implemented in the U.S.A. what they had planned to do to Harry, going by the number of rich husbands my daughter went through in the last ten years.' He gave a bitter laugh. 'As I said before, I loved my daughter, but I was also ashamed of her. It's a horrible thing to feel both at the same time, I can tell you. And I detested the man she was secretly with. At least they stayed in the U.S.A., so Molly never had to find out what had become of her little girl.'

'However, she came back,' Nicholas said.

Arthur Weasley sighed. 'She came back. The woman she had become had nothing of the little girl I once knew. During the last ten years, we'd had little contact. Ginny hardly ever wrote. She eloped with her first husband, though Molly and I were invited to her second and third weddings. Number four was an elopement once again. She divorced him before we'd even met him once.' He put both feet on the ground, propped his elbows on his thighs and leaned forward, covering his face with the palms of his hands.

Nicholas waited in silence until he was ready to talk again.

When Arthur Weasley pulled his hands off his face, straightened, and looked at Nicholas again, his eyes were red-rimmed, but dry. 'We heard of her return the day before the Veterans Ball. At the day of the ball, we went as a family, except for Ron and Hermione, who also were in the Minister's party that night, though they came to our house first and Flooed from here to the hotel. Ginny and her date also came to _The Burrow _to meet with us. Zabini escorted her that night. The moment I saw them, I knew their relationship was stronger than ever. They acted like a long-married couple, you know, one seemed to understand the other one blind and without words.'

'I know what you mean, Mr Weasley, I've also been married for many years.'

'Good.' Arthur Weasley gave him a long, hard stare. 'I tell you, Mr Greco, that man is bad news. He dragged my little girl onto a path that destroyed her in the end. You've probably heard of the reputation of his family. While I have to give Zabini that his name was never involved with illegal businesses, I also know that mob families always have a legal storefront, so to speak, to launder the dirty money. What is better suited for that than Zabini's involvement in the Quidditch circus? Ginny is … was … not the only player he has under contract. A lot of money is going through his hands, from the teams and from companies for advertising contracts. He might also be involved in bets and manipulating games, for all that I know. I'm sure Ginny would have known about that, as close as they were. What if she had to die because of that?'

Nicholas closed his notebook and put it away. 'You've given that a lot of thought, Mr Weasley.'

'I thought of little else ever since we got the news of Ginny's death.' Arthur Weasley's voice sounded hoarse, and he didn't look at Nicholas.

'May I ask for a last favour, Mr Weasley?'

Arthur Weasley turned his head and looked at Nicholas from watery eyes. 'That is?'

'May I have a look at Ms Weasley's last residence as soon as the investigators from the Auror Department are finished and Ms Weasley's estate has been released? I suppose you and Mrs Weasley are her obvious heirs, since she wasn't married and had no children.'

The eyes of the other man spilled over. 'Her estate has already been released. Madam Roper told us the investigations had been wrapped up when she informed us of Daphne's arrest.'

Nicholas' stomach tied itself into an icy knot. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. What, by Merlin's balls, had got into Roper? By no means the Auror Department could have performed a thorough investigation of a place as big as _Stinchcombe Hall _in such a short time. And what about the body? He almost didn't dare to ask.

'Has the body been released, too?'

'Yes.' Arthur Weasley nodded. 'You'll have to ask my son Ronald about that. He was with us when Madam Roper told us, and for some reason he didn't seem to be happy about it. When Madam Roper was gone, he and Bill, our eldest, offered to take care of the preparations for the funeral. To be honest, I am thankful for that. Neither Molly nor I are in any shape for that at the moment.'

'I imagine.' Nicholas let out a long, silent breath. If Head Auror Weasley had taken charge of the body, there was hope there was still some evidence left. He looked at Arthur Weasley. 'Do you mind if I have a look at the house this afternoon?'

'Of course not. I'll send a Patronus to inform the head house elf. Ginny had rented _Stinchcombe Hall _from the Potter estate, so the elves are of course Harry's, but the rent for the house is paid until the end of the month, and the elves will answer to me until then.'

'Thank you, Mr Weasley.' Nicholas stood up and held his hand out to the man. 'I cannot fathom what you are going through at this moment, but I thank you sincerely on behalf of the Potters for your help, I am hopeful that some of what you have shared with me today will help us apprehend your daughter real killer.'

'I'd do anything to help finding the real murderer of my daughter,' Arthur Weasley replied, and shook his hand.

* * *

_ **Oxford, May 20th 2008** _

Head Auror Ronald Weasley and his wife lived in a well-maintained two-story Victorian house with gingerbread stucco at the gable in an all Muggle neighbourhood in a sought-after part of Oxford.

Nicholas let out a low, appreciative whistle as he walked down the flagstone path that led to the main entrance of the house. He made most of his business with financial background checks for a number of clients, magical as well as Muggle, so he was well versed in the Muggle real estate market. Houses in this part of Oxford didn't come cheap, especially not a house as picturesque as this one. He'd conservatively estimate the market value of the place at two million Muggle pounds at least.

Quite a lot of dough for a Head Auror and a Potions Mistress, which amounted to a police captain and a graduate chemist in the Muggle world. However, he'd read somewhere that Mrs Granger-Weasley's parents were well-off Muggles. Maybe the house came from her side of the family, its location within a Muggle neighbourhood lent credence to that theory.

Head Auror Weasley opened the door. No surprise there, his forced leave of absence as long as the case of his sister wasn't closed, due to the new rules about conflict of interest that had been implemented a couple of years ago, had led to another uninformed article by one Rita Skeeter in today's _Daily Prophet._

'Nicholas?' Weasley's ginger brows shot up as he recognized him. 'What brings you here?'

Nicholas motioned with his hand towards the inside of the house. 'That's a long story and better told in private. May I come in?'

'Of course.'

Weasley held the door open, and Nicholas stepped into a sunlit, glassed porch.

'Let's talk in the family room. Rosie's playing in the conservatory. Merlin only knows with what she'll come up with if I don't keep an eye on her,' Weasley said and led the way to an airy room at the back of the house. Comfortable upholstered leather armchairs and couches stood around an open fireplace, and bookcases, overflowing with books, lined the walls of the room. Tall double glass doors led towards a sunny conservatory. On the floor of the conservatory sat a little girl, still a toddler, on a colourful blanket, a picture book in her lap. She didn't look up when her father and Nicholas entered the living room.

'It's a new book; hopefully it'll keep her occupied for some time,' Weasley said, and motioned with his hand for Nicholas to sit down in one of the comfortable armchairs near the fireplace. 'Well?' he asked, as soon as they had sat down.

Nicholas cleared his throat. 'First, let me give you my heartfelt condolences, Ron.'

Weasley lowered his head and swallowed. 'Thank you, Nicholas.' His voice sounded hoarse. 'Though, it seems to me I lost my little sister already a long time ago.'

'Your father said almost the same.'

Weasley's head jerked up. 'Did he? Well, dad is very observant, though he rarely lets on.' He gave Nicholas a sharp look. 'Since you talked to my father, I take it that Harry employed you to investigate the death of my sister?'

'Mr Potter engaged my services this morning.'

'Good.' Weasley let out a deep breath. 'Then there's hope the real murderer of my sister will be found. Trust Harry to keep a level head in a crisis and do what needs to be done.'

Nicholas pulled out his notepad and biro. 'So you don't believe that Mrs Potter killed your sister?'

'Daphne? Ridiculous. Mind you, she can become really bitchy if a woman is flirting with Harry, even though Harry has never given her any reason to doubt his fidelity. I'm not surprised about what she did to Ginny at the Veterans Ball; she marked her claim on Harry and wasn't subtle about it. My sister wouldn't have understood anything else.'

'What exactly happened at Veterans Ball between Mrs Potter and Ms Weasley?'

Weasley raised his hands, palms upwards, in a gesture of cluelessness. 'I wasn't there, so I don't know; you'll have to ask the witches about that.'

'The witches?' Nicholas regarded him with an amused smile.

'Hermione, my wife, Fleur Weasley, my sister-in-law, and Lisa Finch-Fletchley. They are all best friends with Daphne.'

Nicholas jotted down the names. 'What do you know about the last ten years of the life of your sister, Ron?'

Weasley sighed, leaned back in his chair and rubbed a hand down over his face. 'Not as much as I should have known, and most of what I know is hearsay. I lived with her in the same house for about two weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts. Hermione and I left after that for Australia to search for Hermione's parents. When we returned, Harry was married to Daphne, and Ginny was already in the U.S.A. I only saw her twice in all these years; once Christmas ninety-eight, when she visited _The Burrow _to present her first husband, and another time in autumn two-thousand-four. We had dinner together while I was at a conference at Taos.'

'You didn't meet her after her return to England?'

'Well, I saw her at _The Burrow _when the family met for the Veterans Ball. She was at our table, too. Though, I didn't talk to her much that night, least of all after her little stunt with Harry on the dance floor. I probably would have yelled at her then.' His face became taut. 'That night's the last time I saw her alive.'

Nicholas cleared his throat. 'I'm sorry to hear that.' He flipped the page of his notebook to a new one. 'What can you tell me about the relationship between your sister and Mr Potter?'

'What relationship?' Weasley asked back with a wry grin that didn't meet his eyes. 'They were sweethearts at Hogwarts at the end of Harry's and my sixth year. Maybe that could have developed into something serious, if the war hadn't come between them. Harry broke up with Ginny for her safety, noble prat that he is. I've been told Ginny had another boyfriend while Harry was on the run and she in Hogwarts. Yet they got back together after the war. Although anyone could see that was doomed to fail.'

'Your mother had the impression Mr Potter would have married your sister, if Mrs Potter hadn't come between them.'

Weasley nodded. 'Most likely. And most likely they'd be divorced by now. I don't doubt Harry cared for Ginny back then, but it wasn't enough, you know. Their relationship never went beyond the physical. Ginny was his first girlfriend, an exercise sheet in relationship matters, if you get my drift.'

Nicholas laughed out loud at that. 'I think I do. I also had my first girlfriend once - a long time ago.'

Weasley joined his laughter. 'So did I.' He made a face. 'Today we can both laugh about it when we meet.' He sobered. 'Harry and Ginny, however …' His voice trailed off.

Nicholas leaned back in his chair and waited for Weasley to end his train of thought.

'Their relationship didn't come to a natural end either time. First Harry ended it because he didn't want to endanger Ginny, then he had to marry Daphne and ended it for a second time. Harry's feelings for Ginny eventually faded away at the same rate he discovered his feelings for Daphne. He eventually found closure from whatever there had been between him and Ginny. My sister, on the other hand…' Weasley shook his head and paused again. 'I don't think she ever gave up on Harry. Why else would she throw herself at him the moment she returned to England?'

'It seems your father's not the only observant one in your family, Ron.' Nicholas smiled and closed his notebook. 'I have one last question, however. Your father mentioned you and your brother Bill offered to take care of the preparations for Ms Weasley's funeral. Is it possible to let a healer trained in magical forensics look at her body before the funeral?'

Weasley gave him a grim smile. 'I've got something even better for body of my sister hadn't been moved from the crime scenewhen Roper told my parents this morning she'd just wrapped up the investigation; she wasn't aware I was in the kitchen of _The Burrow _and heard every word. It was then that I realised that Dawlish had not even followed any of the protocols for homicides.' Weasley shook his head disgustedly and continued, 'I called in a few favours from the Department of Mysteries. They are running diagnostics on my sister's body in situ as we speak and will then conduct a full autopsy. Tell Harry I'll send him a copy of the report the moment I get it.'

_t.b.c._


	20. Chapter 20

_ **The Ministry of Magic, May 20th 2008** _

A cacophony of voices greeted him like a solid wall of sound as he appeared on the Apparition Point in the Ministry of Magic's atrium.

Long rows of wizard and witches stood in front of the security checkpoint, waiting for admittance, while they talked to the people to their left and right in loud, excited voices. Scraps of their conversations reached his ears; it seemed they'd all come to the Ministry to witness the hearing in the arrest of the murderer of the famous Quidditch star Ginny Weasley. No "alleged" here, either. The guilt of the prisoner had already been predetermined in the court of public opinion by the outraged masses.

Harry clenched his teeth and pushed down his irritation. Evidently, the news that someone had been arrested for Ginny's murder and that their initial hearing was to be conducted by a committing magistrate today had made the rounds soon after the press conference held by the DMLE. He navigated his way past the general public lines to the security checkpoint for employees of the Ministry and members of the Wizengamot.

'Look, there he is,' a female voice shouted, and the room went quiet, while all faces turned towards him. 'Harry, I hope you're going to send that bitch you're married to to hell!' Another voice shouted from the security of the anonymity the mass of wizards and witches provided. The suggestion was met with loud applause from a vast majority of the crowd.

The muscles in Harry's neck stiffened, and he balled his fists, so as not to draw his wand. It was unsurprising that the news of Daphne's arrest was already out and widespread. Roper really had lost no time allowing a leak to occur and had the full name of the arrested become public knowledge, against everything the Wizengamot had implemented over the last ten years to protect the privacy of the victim as well as of the accused during a criminal investigation. He gritted his teeth, squared his shoulders, and shrugged off the hurtful comments and the heartless laughter. Nothing would be gained from him losing his composure and giving into his temptation to hex the bloody lot of them.

He breathed a deep sigh as soon as he had passed the security checkpoint. But he may have relaxed to soon, given that walking down to the courtrooms was like running the gauntlet. It seemed as if every employee of the Ministry had made their way to the entrance to have a look at him. The many hushed whispers that followed him did nothing to lighten his mood.

His mood darkened further when he stepped out of the elevator on level ten, where all of the courtrooms were situated. The hallway in front of the courtrooms was packed with reporters, magazines and newspapers from all over the world jostled for position as soon as they recognised him. Flashes of light blinded him as he approached, and the smell of burnt magnesia assaulted his nose.

Of course, somehow Skeeter had managed to position herself in the front row. 'Harry, dear, are you going to divorce your wife after she murdered the love of your life?'

Something exploded within him. A wave of heat shot through his body, red, hot spots appeared before his eyes, his pulse roared in his ears, and in the next moment he'd grabbed Skeeter by the expensive collar of Niffler fur on her robes and yanked her towards him. 'Shut up, Rita.'

She blanched, and her mouth fell open.

He pushed her back into the mass of reporters in front of him with every ounce of strength he possessed. Skeeter was catapulted backwards, banged into two foreign looking reporters who stood very close to another, and slid to the ground. The foreign reporters were pushed back by the impact and also lost their footing, thus causing those who stood behind them falling down with them.

Harry looked at the domino effect he had created, a grim smile around his mouth, and pointed his wand into the air. Screw McLean and his carefully constructed press statements.

_Bang!_

The room fell silent.

'As you are all probably aware of by now, my wife was arrested for the alleged murder of Ginny Weasley. I would, however, like to remind you of the benefit of the doubt she is entitled to by law until she has been tried in front of a legitimate court. Unfortunately, it appears that some of you seem to lack of the appropriate understanding of that fundamental human right.'

He glared down at Skeeter, who was still on the ground, and actually scrambled backwards on her behind, wilting under his heated glare.

'I should also like to point out that I am convinced my wife is innocent and was in no way involved in Ginny's death. I'm well aware that certain members of the British press have made thinly veiled hints about a love triangle between Ginny, Daphne and me, and that Daphne was arrested on the assumption that she acted out of jealousy because I was going to leave her for Ginny.' Once again he glared down at Skeeter, who tried to scramble away even further.

'I state categorically, here and now, that nothing could be farther from the truth.' The eyes of the reporters were glued to him, and almost everyone was jotting down on a notepad while he spoke.

'Ginny Weasley was my girlfriend ten years ago, nothing more. I broke up with her before I married Daphne, hardly ever saw her since then, and had no intention… zero, none, nadda, zilch,' - he looked around, glaring at the throng of press - 'of returning to her. And she as sure as hell never was my mistress.' He spat the last word, then took a deep breath to calm himself. An outburst of accidental, rage-filled magic in front of the international press wouldn't do anything to help Daphne's case.

When he spoke again, his voice was much calmer. 'I reiterate, I had no intention of leaving Daphne for Ginny, and I certainly have no intention to divorce my wife, whom I love deeply, for a crime she didn't commit. I suppose that answers Ms Skeeters utterly idiotic question. Now, if you'll excuse me, my wife needs my support and I have every intention of offering it to her.'

He turned towards the door of the courtroom, and the solid wall of reporters in front of him parted like the waters of the Red Sea.

The courtroom was filled to capacity with curious onlookers who'd come to gawk at Daphne. At a table in front of the judge's bench Roper sifted through a stack of papers.

Harry's stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. So, she'd come herself today, instead of pawning off the hearings in front of the committing magistrate to a subordinate, as she usually did. It was just another sign of how dead-set in her mindset the woman was, she would definitely be angling to have Daphne sent to Azkaban. Well, he shouldn't be surprised by that.

His eyes scanned the room looking for Anthony, and found him sitting in the front row, also occupied with papers.

When Harry sat down next to him, he looked up and held his hand out to Harry in greeting. 'How are you holding up, Harry?'

Harry replied with an imperceptible twist of his mouth, mindful of the many eyes in the room and the throng of reporters that had followed him into the courtroom in anticipation of a second show.

'That bad, uh?' Anthony said with a raised eyebrow. 'Don't worry, we'll get her out of here; Roper has no grounds to keep her longer.' He lowered his voice. 'From what I got from Daphne's interview last night, Roper's case relies almost entirely on Mrs Weasley's grief-driven accusations and your house elves' statement that Daphne had disarmed and bound Ginny on Monday afternoon. Without additional evidence that points at Daphne she doesn't have enough to keep her in the holding cells, let alone to get a guilty verdict in a trial, especially since Ginny was obviously expecting a visitor that night, as her order to the elves to prepare a dinner for two and leave it under Stasis Charms in the dining room indicates. I bet she was expecting a lover and counting on a quickie for starters. My gold is on him being the murderer.'

'Let's hope you're right,' Harry said with a deep sigh.

A door behind the judge's bench opened, and the room fell silent as the judge took his place, a tall, dark skinned man with greying hair at the temples, and a calm demeanour.

Anthony let out a long breath. 'Judge Robins; that's good, he's one of your supporters at the Wizengamot, isn't he?'

Harry nodded, the next second, however, his attention was distracted by another door at the side of the room opening. Escorted by an Auror, Daphne was led into the room.

She looked every bit as unkempt and exhausted as he had expected. Her plaid shirt was rumpled, her beautiful blonde hair was a dishevelled mess, and her face had an unhealthy greenish hue, with large dark bags under her eyes. Tiny beads of sweat glistened on her upper lip and her cheeks, but there was a pugnacious gleam in her eyes.

A smile flickered across his face; his Daphne was not yet broken, she was still fighting, Roper hadn't managed to get at her, thanks to their precautions. Their eyes met, and the whole courtroom with the many curious onlookers faded into the background. A spark of warmth ignited in his chest and spread from there all over his body.

'I love you,' he mouthed, and was rewarded with a small smile and a mouthed "me too".

Anthony took his place beside Daphne, and the judge opened the session. The hearing in front of the magistrates court then turned into a rather dull affair. Anthony petitioned for inspection of records, which was granted, although Roper tried to contest that, and a date for the start of the actual trial in front of a yet to determined panel of judges from members of the Wizengamot was set for the second of June.

The muscles in Harry's neck stiffened, and his hands clenched to fists by his side. Damn it, that was much sooner than they had counted on and left them only little time to prepare a decent defence for Daphne - something Roper was very pleased with, if her smug smile was anything to go by.

Next, the amount of the bail had to be determined by the presiding judge.

Roper was in high form. 'Your Honour, the accused is a very rich woman. In spite of the amount of bail that is determined, it still is to be feared that she will escape prosecution by leaving the country. Thus I demand that not only her wand will be confiscated, but that her magic be bound.'

A gasp went through the courtroom at that outrageous demand. By law, only the magic of magical creatures could be bound if a number of circumstances occurred. Daphne's case, however, warranted nothing of that, and Anthony didn't hesitate to point that out.

'Denied,' Judge Robins said and banged his gavel to restore order in the courtroom. He turned towards Daphne. 'Mrs Potter, I know that because of your wealth there is no big difference if I determine a bail of one Galleon or ten million Galleons. Thus, I determine a bail of one million Galleons sufficient. However, your wand will be confiscated and you'll have to stay within the confines of your estate and are only allowed to leave to see a healer or your barristers. Furthermore, visitors will only be permitted by approval of the court; you'll have to submit a list with the names in advance.'

Daphne nodded, and Harry let his wand slip into his hand, cast his Patronus and leaned forward to give the ethereal stag his message for the Goblins. Loud _ahs _and _ohs _echoed through the courtroom at the sight of the live-sized, almost solid looking silvery Patronus, and Judge Robins had to employ his gavel again. Two minutes later, a Goblin walked into the room and presented a letter from Gringotts to the judge.

Judge Robins read the letter and looked at Daphne over the rim of the parchment. 'The letter states that a million Galleons have been transferred into the vaults of the Ministry. You are free to go home, Mrs Potter.'

'Thank you, Judge Robins,' Daphne said. She held herself upright, not even the slightest sagging of her shoulders betrayed the relief she had to feel.

Anthony offered his arm, which she accepted, and he led her towards Harry. Two Aurors followed them.

One looked straight at Harry and gave him a covert wink. Harry recognised Dean Thomas, and Seamus Finnegan right by his side, and his chest became lighter. Roper might have the upper hand right now, but he still had friends in the Auror Department who'd help him watch each of her steps.

He followed the example of his wife and watched her approach, his head held high, though his heart was going to jump out of his throat. The moment Daphne was by his side, however, he let go of his restrain, pulled her into his arms, and pressed a kiss into her silky hair that still held a trace of the spicy fragrance that was oh so Daphne. She threw both arms around him and clung to him as if she never wanted to let him go. Neither of them heeded the yelled questions from the reporters in the courtroom, nor the photographers who shot photo after photo, the soft whump of magical flashes melding together to drown out the other sounds as they filled the courtroom with their purple smoke.

His arm still around his wife, he led her out of the courtroom, the Aurors close at their heels. Though Daphne seemed calm on the outside, small tremors ran through her body, and she pressed herself against him as close as possible.

Outside, even more reporters waited for them, and once again Harry was blinded by a thunderstorm of camera flashes, while questions were hurtled at them, each droning the other out so that he couldn't make a single coherent sentence from any of them.

'Harry, is it true that -'

'Mrs Potter, why did you -'

Harry let his wand slip in his hand and glared at the reporters. He wouldn't hesitate to blast their way through them if they didn't let them pass, restraint be damned.

Thank Merlin he didn't have to resort to violence. Dean and Seamus pushed their way past them, their wands drawn, and ordered the obnoxious mass to step back. Shouts of protest followed, but at the sight of the wands and the no-nonsense look on the faces of the two young yet experienced Aurors they obeyed.

Two minutes later, they had reached the Apparition Point in the atrium.

'We have orders to come with you and guard your private Apparition Point,' Dean said, and let his wand slip back into its holster. 'Two more Aurors will guard the gate to your estate. That means Seamus and I will Apparate first, then you and Daphne will follow.'

Harry nodded. Dean and Seamus stepped into the circle and vanished. Harry gave them a few seconds to leave the Apparition Point at _The Rectory, _then followed suit with Daphne in his arm.

_t.b.c._


	21. Chapter 21

_ **Stinchcombe Hall, May 20th 2008** _

Nicholas paused in the doorway, tugging on his muggle latex gloves, and looked around the master bedroom of _Stinchcombe Hall. _The room was huge; probably as big as the first floor of the small house he and Elizabeth had bought when they married thirty-five years ago. It was that big that the oversized four-poster-bed at one wall actually looked small.

His gaze eventually returned to the bed after taking in the rest of the overtly opulent room. The satin sheets were askew and had been pulled partially from the bed, a lamp on one of he bedside tables was turned over and its glass shade broken. At a first glance it could appear like it was from a vigorous bout of sex, but equally plausible was that a fight had actually taken place in the room.

He narrowed his eyes and studied the walls. Mr Potter had told him that the man who'd found the victim had said she'd been blown into a wall of her bedroom. That was a possible explanation for her death, but it was best not to jump to conclusions, every possibility should be investigated. Had an impact with the wall really been the cause of her death? One could easily think so; a Blasting Hex to the body from short distance could cause severe damage, not to mention that the impact of the skull on a wall could crack it open like a watermelon that fell on the pavement. If it was the cause of death there should be telltale signs on the wall, or the floor.

The walls of the room were covered with a subtle shimmering, cream-coloured silk wallpaper with a pattern of peach blossoms strewn all over. Careful inspection though revealed that there was indeed a faint smear of blood on the wall next to the bed, however, there was nothing on the thick, cream-coloured carpet that covered the floor. If a Blasting Hex had been the cause of death, as Mr Potter had supposed, there should be significantly more blood.

Something was definitely not right here. Hopefully thanks to Head Auror Weasley's quick thinking and obtaining a private autopsy, the examiners findings would shed some light on the cause of death and give them a good estimation of the time of death. Though it was probably too much to hope for, given it was more than twenty-four hours after the body had been discovered. Merlin only knew how much evidence Dawlish' unprofessional investigations had destroyed as he trampled through the scene like an erumpent in full rut.

He stepped around the room, inspecting everything that caught his eye as he continued his musings. He shouldn't be surprised by that, Dawlish was next to useless in the subtle art of crime scene investigation, the man was old school, a firm believer that the few magical means of investigation wizardkind had developed were enough, and he was one who had opposed vehemently any attempt to introduce a scientific approach, like the Muggles had so successfully developed. Of course he'd scorned every development that had been made in the Auror Department over the last ten years and hardly been subtle about it.

He took a couple of pictures and waved his wand across the room in a complicated pattern. There was no sign of recent use of strong magic. So much for the Blasting Curse as the cause of death.

Deep in thought, he left the bedroom.

The private living room connected to the bedroom was a sunny, cheerful room. The tall windows overlooked the formal garden at the back of the house and the lake beyond, the room was decorated in the same peaches-and-cream colour scheme as the bedroom. A huge lounge, covered with peach-coloured velvet, took up one corner of the room. On a dainty, white bureau with spindle legs and gilded edges at the wall opposite to the lounge lay a small, leather bound book, with the initials G.W. embossed on the front cover in gold.

Her diary?

Nicholas walked to the desk, took a couple of more photos, waved his wand over it to collect the fingerprints just in case, and picked up the small book.

It was the appointment calendar of the victim. He shook his head; how by Merlin's saggy balls could Dawlish have overlooked such an important piece of evidence?

He sighed as he remembered the capabilities of the man in question; quite easily, actually, had the moron only investigated the bedroom. He bagged the book into one of his self indexing evidence bags and pocketed the calendar for later study.

His investigation of the walk-in wardrobe that adjoined the private living room brought no new insights, except that the victim had obviously loved a high-maintenance-lifestyle. The collection of designer clothes, wizarding as well as Muggle, that filled the overflowing shelves was of an impressive opulence. If the clothing had been impressive, then the collection of jewelry in the safe of the wardrobe that the head elf opened for him was spectacular.

A sudden idea hit him. 'Is anything missing from Ms Weasley's safe?' he asked the elf.

The small creature took another peek into the safe and nodded. 'Missy Weezy put a big brown envelope with a pretty red stamp here. It bes not here anymore.'

The hair at the nape of Nicholas' neck rose. Arthur Weasley's suspicions all of a sudden had a decisive air of truth about them. What had been in that envelope? More importantly: what had become of it? Had it been taken out of the safe by the victim for some mundane purpose? Or had the envelope contained something important, maybe even something incriminating that would identify her murderer, so had he taken it with him? Was that envelope maybe even the cause for the murder?

Questions and more questions popped into his head. He pulled out his notepad and made detailed notes, then turned to the next room of the sumptuous suite.

The investigation of the bathroom revealed another interesting detail about the life of the victim that wasn't public knowledge. There was the expected array of first-class beauty products, and the cabinet contained a row of vials with Contraceptive Potions and Nutrient Potions, things that he would expect to find in the bathroom cabinet of a female athlete. Below that, however, was a row of custom-brewed Pain Relief Potions. The vials bore the labels of an apothecary in Taos, and indicated they had been brewed following the prescription of a healer with a practise in Taos. The team-healer of the Taos Tornados perhaps?

If he remembered his background information correctly, Ginny Weasley had been involved in some spectacular Quidditch accidents during her time with the Taos Tornados, but seemed to have shaken off the potential season or career ending injuries without problems, and was on her broom again and scoring goals for her team an unbelievable short time later. It was that sort of spunk that had earned her the adoration and undying loyalty of Quidditch fans world wide.

Nicholas eyed the long row of vials with Pain Relief Potion speculatively, his chin burrowed in his hand, and a deep scowl on his face. How much of that world renowned spunk had been found at the bottom of one of these vials? How potent were the potions? Even worse, had Ginny Weasley been addicted to Pain Relief Potions? It would explain some of the altered and erratic behaviour that her father had described, though not everything. There was, however, a faint possibility that she'd taken an overdose of potions, climbed out of her bed, pulled down the covers and toppled over the lamp in that process, and fell bodily against the wall, making it appear as though she had been blasted there. This hypothesis would explain the lack of residual magic in her bedroom. Her death could very well be due to an accidental overdose of these potions, and the smear of blood on the wall maybe caused by an injury not willingly inflicted by Daphne as she put the woman in the Body Bind Curse and dumped her on the floor.

He bagged one of the vials, added it to his pocket, and made a note in his notebook to check the results of the blood samples taken during the autopsy of the victim for signs of Pain Relief Potion. Stashing the notebook away, he turned and left the suite to explore the rest of the house, and soon made the assessment that Ginny Weasley had made use of less than a tenth of the available spaces within the extravagant house.

On his back way out he took a closer look at the dining room and the other rooms on the ground floor. Of course the remains of the dinner the victim had ordered had already been removed by the diligent elves. He sighed; it was probably too much to hope that Dawlish had investigated the dining room. After all, he'd not found the victim's appointment calendar, either. None of the other rooms showed any indication that Ginny Weasley had set a foot into them: they were all immaculate. He called for the head house elf once more.

'You told Director McLean Ms Weasley ordered a cold dinner. Can you tell me if the food you laid out in the dining room has been touched? Do you know if Ms Weasley dined with a guest on the night of her death?'

The elf nodded a couple of times. 'Missy Weasley had dinner. There bes two dirty plates after.'

The warm glow of vindication spread through Nicholas' body, and a slow smile crept over his face. At last, the first solid hint that Ginevra Weasley had had yet another visitor after her encounter with Daphne Potter. Though the testimony of an elf bound to the Potters probably wouldn't be counted as totally reliable in court - after all, the Potters could have ordered it to give a false testimony - it was something he could start from. He now couldn't wait to have a closer look at that appointment calendar.

Ten minutes later he sat at the desk of his study at home, latex gloves on and Ginevra Weasley's appointment calendar in front of him, a fresh notepad and biro to the right, and a steaming mug of tea his wife had insisted on preparing for him left of the notebook.

He flipped through the calendar. The victim had left the U.S.A. on April 30th via International Portkey and had taken residence at _The Dorchester, _a Muggle hotel, and not a cheap one either.

It appeared that the next day she'd already made an appointment with a Goblin from Gringotts' real estate department. Even though she'd stayed at a Muggle hotel first, she'd definitely been looking for a permanent residence among magical houses. The following four days showed appointments for looking at houses, along with her agent. His finger traced over the May 5th, she'd signed the rental agreement for _Stinchcombe Hall _in the morning and apparently moved in by the afternoon on the same day.

There were also quite a lot appointments with McLean and Patterson from Crystal Fairy Beauty Products, together with her agent. She'd signed the contract with the company on the 7th, one day before Veterans Ball, where she had been involved in the altercation with Daphne.

The ball seemed to have been of importance for her, for she'd circled the date numerous times with red ink.

The week after the ball had daily appointments with Patterson, marked as "preparation for presentation". May 16th had again been circled numerous times with red ink. "Presentation" was written across the page.

That had been the party at _The Rectory._

So far, there had been no private appointments, if you didn't count the daily meetings with her agent as private. They'd mostly been late in the evening, usually they seemed to have had dinner together. A rather unusual time to meet someone's agent. And were daily meetings necessary in the Quidditch business? He knew that they had previously been intimately involved so maybe they still were? Arthur Weasley had been convinced of that as he watched them together prior to the ball.

He flipped another page, the day after the presentation party there was a private dinner appointment. Strangely enough, there was no name noted. The line only held the cryptic note "dinner with weapon".

Weapon against what? Or worse, against whom?

Which led to the most important question: who was "weapon"?

For Monday morning there was a photo shoot for Crystal Fairy. In the afternoon, around tea time, there was another rendez-vous with "weapon".

Had that appointment taken place? Was "weapon" the murderer? Or was it just a freak, potion-induced accident?

He closed the calendar and rubbed his eyes with the balls of his hands. Tomorrow, he'd pay a couple of visits. He'd have to talk to the realtor, to McLean and Patterson, and, of course, to Mr Zabini. Maybe one of them would let something slip that gave him a clue to the identity of "weapon".

_t.b.c._


	22. Chapter 22

_ **The Rectory, May 20th 2008** _

The instant they appeared on the Apparition Point at _The Rectory, _Daphne pulled herself away from Harry, bent over, her arms clenched in front of her stomach, and vomited right at his feet.

'Eww!' quipped Seamus, while Dean let out a small chuckle. 'Parvati hated Apparition when she was preggers with our first. I swear, she learned how to projectile-vomit at me every time I took her side-along.'

Harry didn't pay them much heed. He Vanished the small puddle of sick, put his arm around his wife, who had still clenched her arms around her body, and helped her towards the house.

Matty already awaited them at the open door. 'Matty bes taking Mistress Daffy to her room,' she said, took Daphne's arm and _plopped _her away.

Harry blinked at the spot where his wife had just disappeared from before he collected himself and hurried up the stairs to the master bedroom. His heart pounded in his chest, and his jaw was set into a determined line. No matter what Daphne said this time, he was going to take her to a healer as soon as she had recovered from her bout of nausea.

The sound of retching, coming from the ensuite, greeted him as soon as he opened the door to their bedroom, and he rushed towards the bathroom.

Daphne knelt in front of the toilet bowl, her body contorted in dry heaves.

With two long strides he was beside her, put his arm around her and pushed a strand of damp hair out of her sweaty face with his free hand, the acidic tang of vomit assaulting his nose. 'Don't you think it's about time to see a healer?' he asked in a low voice.

Daphne nodded. 'As soon as this is over.' That was all she managed to get out, before a new wave of nausea overcame her.

Harry held her until the ugly business was over, then helped her to the bed for some rest. However, Daphne's time of respite didn't last long. Not even ten minutes later she was heaving again.

The pattern continued throughout the afternoon, and Harry's nerves became thinner every time she hurried to the bathroom. Around dinner time, Harry had enough. 'Darling, it doesn't look as if your nausea is going to stop any time soon. I'm going to take you to St Mungo's right now.'

This time, Daphne didn't protest and gave an exhausted nod.

Harry helped his wife to the Apparition Point in front of the house and told Dean and Seamus about his decision.

Dean looked at Daphne and nodded his agreement. 'You really ought to see a healer, Daphne, you look like shit, if I may say so.' He turned to Harry and added sarcastically, 'I'll be coming with you to make sure your wife doesn't try to escape.'

Harry snorted. 'In her current state she won't get very far.'

Of course, Daphne vomited again as soon as Harry and Dean appeared on the Apparition Point at St Mungo's, Daphne between them. At least this had the benefit that Daphne was ushered into an examination room immediately, and a healer turned up a few minutes later.

'Mrs and Mr Potter, how can I help you?' Healer Payne asked as soon as the greetings were over.

Payne hadn't changed much in the five years since Harry had last seen him, when he brought them the devastating news of the effect the antidote against Daphne's poisoning would likely have on her ability ever to conceive again: a little less hair, maybe, some further greying at the temples, and what looked like some middle age spread under his healer robes. He listened to Daphne telling him about her symptoms, and then helped her lay down on the examination couch and ran a couple of Diagnostic Charms across her body, as Harry waited with his arms crossed, back leaned against the wall opposite of the examination bed, the fingers of his right hand drumming a pattern on his left biceps as he tried to be patient.

Rows of runes appeared in the air above Daphne's body and shimmered out of sight again. Healer Payne studied them with a frown on his face. 'So far, everything appears to be fine, Mrs Potter.' He stroked his chin between two fingers, deep in thought.

At length, he cast Daphne a sharp look. 'When was your last period, Mrs Potter?'

'Uh …' She gaped at him; her forehead creased as she mentally counted the weeks. 'I'm not sure, around the middle of April, I think.'

Healer Payne's eyebrows went up at that. 'You're not sure?' he asked with a small smile.

A faint blush crept into Daphne's cheeks. 'My period had become irregular after the… incident. The potions Mrs Granger-Weasley developed to counteract that effect helped somewhat, but I stopped taking them about a year ago.'

'Why's that?'

The blush on Daphne's cheeks intensified. 'The strain became too much for me. I was becoming obsessed with the idea of getting pregnant, and when Harry complained he felt as if he'd been reduced to the role of a stud, I knew it was time to let go, or our marriage wouldn't survive.' Her eyes darkened with unshed tears. 'I guess I have resigned to never becoming a mother.'

Healer Payne patted her shoulder. 'I see. Well, that problem is very common among couples who in vain try for a baby for such a long time. I'm glad you found the strength in yourself to let go of your obsessive behaviour. Nevertheless, let me try something.'

Once again he waved his wand across Daphne's body in a complicated pattern.

A single, bright pink rune appeared and hovered in the air over Daphne's abdomen.

Healer Payne's face morphed into a broad smile. 'Congratulations, Mrs Potter, you are pregnant. About six weeks along, I'd say, and the foetus is healthy and strong, according to the brightness of the rune.'

Daphne gasped; her hand flew to her mouth, and she stared up at Healer Payne with shining eyes.

Harry's breath caught, his heart missed a beat, then pounded against his ribcage like a steelhammer clanging against an anvil. Was it really true? Was their greatest wish going to be fulfilled? He pushed himself from the wall, rushed to Daphne's side, got to his knees and flung his arm around her.

She still stared at Healer Payne. 'I'm… I'm… pre-ga-ga...?' A gurgling sound escaped her lips. Was it laughter or a sob? Her eyes spilled over, and she buried her head at Harry's chest.

He tightened his embrace, his head spinning, and a broad smile tattooed on his lips. They were going to have a baby! Daphne clung to him, laughing and crying, and he caressed her back and pressed kisses into her hair while she stammered unintelligible words into his chest.

At length, she looked up at him. Her hair framed both sides of her face in dull strands, due to the night in the prison cell and the afternoon she'd spent in front of a toilet bowl, her eyes were red, and her nose run. Yet, there was a light in her eyes that made his throat constrict. Never before in her life she'd looked that beautiful to him.

'I'm pregnant!'

He bent down and kissed her. 'That you are, darling. Though, after what I've seen during Fleur's, Lisa's and Hermione's pregnancies, I don't doubt that you'll soon be pregaga, also.'

That earned him a swat on the arm and a delighted giggle from his wife. 'Prat!'

'Yeah, but we've already established the fact that I'm your prat, so deal with it.' He moved to kiss her again.

She held him at arm's length. 'Don't, honey, I must have dragon's breath.'

He chuckled. 'Why, yes, you do, darling, but I love you nevertheless.'

_t.b.c._


	23. Chapter 23

_ **The Rectory, May 21st 2008** _

For the first time he could remember since he had been married, Harry woke up alone in the bed in the master bedroom of _The Rectory. _He stretched and made a face; everything somehow seemed cold and empty without Daphne.

Healer Payne had insisted on keeping Daphne in the hospital overnight. She'd neglected herself so much that she'd needed fluids and nutrients spelled into her system, and most importantly she'd needed rest. As Healer Payne had told him in rather blunt words: overly concerned husbands who were also overexcited fathers-to-be didn't agree with that basic requirement.

Cyrus had taught him when it was better to make a strategic retreat, so as soon as Daphne had been admitted to the maternity ward, he'd given her a lingering kiss, told her that he was proud and loved her, and bade goodnight. He'd floated out of the hospital room, his head still in the clouds because of the wonderful news.

Dean's presence next to the door had been like a bucket of cold water over his head. Would his small family been torn apart even before the baby was born? No, justice had to prevail in the end. Daphne wouldn't become another Stan Shunpike, if he could help it.

He'd Apparated back to _The Rectory, _the strain of the last thirty-six hours with a sleepless night in between had taken its toll. He'd fallen onto his bed and was asleep almost immediately.

He started to mentally prepare himself, today would be another hard day. Daphne would be released from St Mungo's this morning. He would ensure that he was there to take her home; it was likely by now that the press would have got wind of the fact that she'd been admitted to the hospital and they'd lay siege to the entrance hall of St Mungo's. Once she was home and settled, then they'd meet with Anthony and Nicholas Greco to prepare Daphne's defence, a meeting that was likely to take up a lot of the afternoon. At this moment in time everything depended on Greco's skills to find a lead that pointed to another suspect.

He sighed as he swung his legs over the edge of his bed. If only there was a way to spare Daphne all that; she'd been through enough already, especially in her condition she shouldn't worry all the time.

A broad smile on his face, he stepped under the shower. They were going to be parents! This was such a precious gift that everything else going on in their lives paled into insignificance compared to that. Would it be a boy or a girl? If he was honest with himself he didn't care as long as mother and baby were healthy. Though, if the colour of the rune above Daphne's stomach was any indication, they were going to have a baby-girl.

A girl with Daphne's looks and his eyes, maybe? He let out a small chuckle as he towelled himself dry. He'd have to start planning to raise the wall around _The Rectory _to five yards and hire a pair of extra mean troll-bodyguards to follow each of her steps as soon as she'd reached puberty.

Still a broad smile on his face as he imagined his teenaged daughter, he walked down to the breakfast room. A wonderful fragrance of fresh coffee and fried eggs with bacon and sausages greeted him, and his stomach made an appreciative gurgle in anticipation. When was the last time he'd eaten a decent meal? He frowned, thinking hard, breakfast on Monday morning was the last time he could really remember eating anything substantial. His lunch had been thoroughly spoiled by Ginny, and he and Daphne had skipped dinner in lieu of more interesting activities. Tuesday and yesterday, however -.

The smile vanished from his face and he pressed his lips together. It was better to forget these two days as soon as possible.

He sat down on his usual place. Matty had put _The Daily Prophet _next to his placemat_, _and also two letters that must have arrived while he was still under the shower.

Harry picked up the first letter and opened it. It was from Anthony, who confirmed their meeting at _The Rectory _for this afternoon. They'd agreed it would be better to meet at the house rather than at Anthony's office in Diagon Alley, where Daphne would have to cope with a potentially hostile wizarding public on the way from the Apparition Point to the office.

He put the letter aside with a small breath. The sooner they started with Daphne's defence, the better. Was there anything from Nicholas Greco yet? He looked at the remaining letter. No such luck; it was from the Wizengamot.

Matty put a plate with eggs and sausages in front of him and poured him a cup of coffee. How the small creature knew he needed a strong coffee this morning instead of the tea Daphne preferred was beyond him, but he thanked Matty with a small smile and took an appreciative sip.

The cup still in his hand, he eyed the letter from the Wizengamot, and his stomach twisted into a tight knot. There was usually only one reason for a summons outside of the regular sessions: to elect a panel of judges for an impending criminal trial.

Daphne's trial.

He put down his cup and opened the letter. Yes, as he had expected, it was a summons to the election of the panel of judges, together with a reminder from the Chief Warlock that he'd better appoint a proxy for this meeting for reasons of conflict of interest.

None of this would be happening if Roper wasn't dead set on using Daphne for her own ends. 'Merlin damn that woman!' Oh, how he'd love to wring Roper's bony neck right now!

He let out a pent up breath. Getting angry would get him nowhere right now, and even more importantly, it wouldn't help Daphne. Roper was going to pay for this stunt one day, but right now he had other things he needed to do. He pushed his plate aside, Summoned some parchment, a quill and ink from the study, and scribbled a short note to Neville that authorised him to act as his proxy in the upcoming election.

'Mipsy,' he called and closed the letter.

With a quiet _plop! _the elf appeared by his side, and he handed the letter to the small creature.

'Please, take this to Mr Neville Longbottom. After that, pack Mistress Daphne's toiletries and a change of clothes and take them to her room at St Mungo's.'

Mipsy gave a vigorous nod and _plopped _away.

A quick look at his wristwatch told him he still had enough time for his breakfast before he had to pick up Daphne at the hospital. However, his appetite was once more gone, and he reached for _The Daily Prophet._

'Master Harry need eat breakfast. Empty tummy make clumsy hands and fuzzy brain,' Matty said beside him.

He turned his head to look at the small creature, the words "I'm fine!" at the tip of his tongue. They never left his mouth.

Matty stood in front of him, her little fists stemmed into her hips, and glared at him. 'Master Harry need bes as good as he can fight for Mistress Daffy and little baby master or mistress. Matty tell Master Harry eat breakfast!'

Harry's stomach gave an uncomfortable leap, and he gaped at the elf. What by Merlin's saggy underpants -?

'Eat!' Matty said, her face like a thundercloud, and pointed at his plate with a finger.

Harry gulped and pulled the plate towards him. He'd seen what a house elf's wrath could do when Dobby blasted away Lucius Malfoy after the incident in the Chamber of Secrets. He surely had no desire to find out what Matty would do to him if he didn't obey. He picked up his fork and put some scrambled eggs in his mouth.

A broad smile appeared on Matty's face. 'That bes better.'

He returned the smile with a shake of his head. 'How do you know about the baby, Matty? We just found out yesterday night.'

Matty gave him a look as if he was an especially dense student. 'House elves always know.' She turned around and scampered back into her kitchen.

He shook his head, took another bite, and perused the front page of _The Daily Prophet._

As it was to be expected, the news about Daphne's arrest for Ginny's murder had made the front page headline. It came with a big picture of Daphne and him, as they had hugged in the courtroom, but also with a less than flattering picture of him as he shoved Rita Skeeter into the wall of reporters that had waited for him in front of the courtroom.

The article below that was as horrible as he had expected. Skeeter apparently hadn't taken kindly to have been flung through the room by him. Though his outburst in front of the press was quoted right, she stated he had been under the lingering influence of Love Potions Daphne fed to him regularly.

He rolled his eyes and drained his cup of coffee. Couldn't Skeeter come up with something more original? If his memory didn't deceive him, she'd already used the Love Potion angle when she reported the news about their wedding, ten years ago.

When would _The Daily Prophet _finally report the truth?

He scrunched his mouth into a wry grin and pushed his chair back. Maybe when pigs could fly and Eugenia Roper turned into the good fairy godmother.

* * *

_ **St Mungo's, May 21st 2008** _

As he had expected the reception area of St Mungo's was jam-packed with reporters when Harry appeared on the Apparition Point. The security wizards of the hospital - a result of the last war - had a hard time trying to contain the press contingent to their assigned corner of the entrance hall, so that they wouldn't disturb the daily functions of the hospital.

Nevertheless, the moment they recognised Harry, the mass of reporters moved as one, like a rising tide in his direction, swamping the helpless security wizards in the process.

Harry let his wand slip out of its holster and cast a silent Shield Charm around himself.

As expected, the first reporters bumped into the invisible shield and were instantly pressed up against it by the hordes behind them. Screams of pain and anger rented the air, mixed in with snippets of questions hurled at him by those who had not yet realised what was going on.

Holding the shield wandlessly, he cast another silent spell that silenced the crowd. He pointed the tip of his wand against his throat to amplify his voice. Every eye in the hall was directed at him; even the patients waiting for treatment and the reception witch were listening to what he had to say.

'Good morning. Following the advice of Daphne's barrister I am not going to comment on the ongoing investigations, except to say that as you can imagine, my wife is deeply troubled by the wrongful accusations that led to her arrest. She had a minor break-down because of that last evening. I brought her to St Mungo's to seek medical attention, and the healer who examined her decided to monitor her overnight just to be safe. I have come this morning to bring her home. Once Daphne is discharged we'll be returning to _The Rectory_ to work on Daphne's defence, because make no mistake about this: my wife is innocent. That's all. Thank you for your attention.'

He cancelled the Voice Amplifying Charm, though he kept the Silencing Charm and the Shield Charm. The crowd of reporters moved with him as he walked towards the elevators, shouting silent questions at him. He suppressed a smirk. Would they ever learn? At least the security wizards finally got a grip on themselves and began to push the reporters back so that he could enter the elevator.

Compared to the entrance hall, St Mungo's maternity ward was a haven of peace when he stepped out of the elevator, though every passing nurse, healer and visitor cast him a curious glance.

Daphne was already out of bed, showered and dressed in the casual robes Mipsy had brought her that morning. She sat in an armchair near the window and was leafing through a fashion magazine as she waited.

At the sound of the opening door she looked up. A blinding smile appeared on her beautiful face.

'Harry!' She flung the magazine onto a low table next to her chair and leapt into his arms.

A wonderful warmth permeated him as he pulled her close and kissed her, and he could have sworn they were surrounded by a soft glow.

He held his wife at arm's length and scrutinised her face. She was still pale under her light makeup, but the dark bags under her eyes weren't that prominent anymore. Though a few faint lines around her eyes gave testimony of the stress she'd been through ever since they'd got the news of Ginny's death, her eyes beamed at him with a happiness they hadn't shown for a very long time - not since that horrible day he had to tell her she'd lost their unborn baby.

'You look much better.'

'I am feeling better. No sign of nausea so far today, and I had a decent sleep last night. Healer Payne also gave me a lot advice on how to deal with the nausea.' She snuggled into his side and laughed. 'At least we know now that my being unwell had perfectly natural reasons that will be gone in a couple of months, so you can stop fussing, honey.'

He joined her laughter. 'That's going to be impossible, darling. You know me, I won't be able to stop fussing about both of you until the little one has arrived safe and sound, and I'm sure you're alright as well.'

He put his hand on her abdomen. At a first glance, it seemed to be as flat as always under the loose robes, but the small changes were apparent when his hand touched the slight bulge of her belly. A soft tingle went through his hand, and he gasped.

Daphne gave him a questioning look from under raised eyebrows.

'Our baby… There was a tingle in my hand when I touched you. I think our baby wanted to say hello.'

She let out a delighted chuckle. 'She does it all the time since yesterday whenever I put my hand on my tummy. I thought it's a mother-baby thing, I had no idea you can feel it, too.'

Harry grinned at her. 'She?'

'She,' Daphne said with a determined nod. 'Do you mind it's not a boy?'

'Not if she's as intelligent and beautiful as her mummy,' he replied and kissed her. 'Which I'm sure she will be.'

Daphne leaned against him with a content sigh. 'Can we go home? Healer Payne already stopped by this morning and said I was free to leave. After everything that has happened since Tuesday I just want to curl up on the sofa for the rest of the day and relax.'

'Your wish is my command, my lady,' Harry said and dropped a kiss on her head. Arm in arm they left the hospital room, exiting via the outgoing private floo connection on the ward.

* * *

_ **The Rectory, May 21st 2008** _

Daphne made good of her promise and curled up with a blanket and a thick novel on a sofa in the conservatory. When Harry looked after her a couple of minutes later to tell her goodbye before he left for a short meeting with Raymond at headquarters, she was already sound asleep.

She was still on the sofa when he returned a few hours later, albeit now awake. The opened novel in her lap, she looked out into the blossoming gardens, a wistful smile on her face.

'A Knut for your thoughts,' he said as he sat down next to her on the edge of the sofa.

She turned her head; a small tear escaped the corner of her eyes and run down her cheek.

He cupped her cheek in his hands and brushed away the tear with the pad of his thumb, his heart heavy in his chest. There was no explanation needed, she had to be as terrified as he was at the thought there might be the smallest possibility that Roper would get her charges to stick and Daphne would be sent to Azkaban for Ginny's murder. It was unbearable to think of that, everything in him constricted at the thought of the love of his life behind prison bars; as unbearable was the thought of his child being born at Azkaban. Even with the Dementors banished from Azkaban, it was still a horrible place.

He pressed his lips into a thin line. This wasn't going to happen; he'd never stand by, twiddling his thumbs, and watch his wife and unborn child being carried off to Azkaban, two more innocent victims of the corruption still inside of the Ministry of Magic.

'I won't let it happen' he said in a low voice. 'What good is it being the richest wizard in England, and one of the wealthiest men in Europe if I don't use the money we have to keep you and our baby out of Azkaban? You know that we don't have to live in England for you and me to lead Crystal Fairy. We can buy a nice place wherever we like and work from there, and the Ministry would never be able to get at us. The democratic magical governments all over the world are still distrustful of magical England, with good reason, and would never extradite us. Or we could just disappear in the Muggle world. What about Hawaii? I've been told it's beautiful there, and warm all year round.'

She let out a watery laugh, turned her head and nuzzled her face into the palm of his hand. 'How are you going to do that, honey?'

He put both arms around her and pulled her close. 'Don't worry about that, darling. I have an idea I'm sure will work, though I won't tell you. What you don't know, a Legilimens can't pull out of your head. You never know if Roper has one working for her.'

Daphne let out a deep sigh. 'Good. I knew you'd find a way.'

His heart constricted in his chest, and he balled his fists. Merlin knew he'd do anything to prove he deserved the unconditional trust she put into him.

The axe over their heads wasn't mentioned anymore. Instead, they bantered about baby names over the light lunch Matty had prepared for them.

Harry dug deep into the admittedly abundant repertoire of strange names the Potters and the Blacks had established between their two families over the centuries. 'What about Euphemia?'

His wife snorted and threw a roll at him. 'No way, ever. I'm not going to burden our innocent daughter with the name of someone out of our families, or, heaven forbid, someone who played a big role in our lives. Next thing you're going to tell me is that you want to name the poor baby Albinia Severa.'

He almost choked on his sandwich, coughed, and took a sip of pumpkin juice to clear his throat. 'Merlin, no! What kind of dad do you think I will be?'

'The worst kind imaginable,' Daphne said and gave him a saucy grin across the table. 'You're probably going to spoil her rotten.'

He didn't deign that an answer, except for a mock-hurt look that made her laugh out loud.

Their good mood vanished, however, when it was time to get ready for their appointment with Anthony and Greco after lunch.

Anthony arrived first, with Greco not even a minute behind him.

Anthony's eyes lit up as he shook Greco's hand, and he gave Harry an approving nod. 'Good thinking, Harry. I was going to suggest we engage a private investigator to conduct our own investigation, since the DMLE seems determined to make a monumental farce out of this case, judging by what I've found out so far.'

Greco's face became grim at these words. 'I agree. Everything I found out yesterday indicates that neither Roper nor Dawlish make any efforts to conduct a thorough investigation. They're all set to pick the leads that are in favour of the charge against Mrs Potter and ignore the rest.'

Daphne's eyes became dark at that, and a shudder ran through her body. Harry put a calming hand on the small of her back and invited their visitors to sit down in the dining room, while he and Daphne sat down at the opposite side of the table.

'Alright, what do you have for us?' he asked, and looked from Anthony to Greco.

Anthony waved his wand over a thin folder in front of him and handed the duplicates to Harry, Daphne and Greco. 'I was finally allowed to examine Daphne's file this morning and make a copy of it.' He indicated at the folder in front of him and opened it with a shake of his head. 'As far as I am concerned, there isn't nearly enough in here for a solid case for prosecution, not that it seems to be hindering Roper, unfortunately, there's also almost zero evidence that we can use from the DMLE investigation to exonerate Daphne; I think you'll have your work cut out over the next few days identifying and obtaining the missing evidence, Mr Greco.'

Greco didn't seem to be surprised about that. 'I think I know what you're alluding to, Mr Goldstein. I'd suggest you present your research first, and I'll add my findings to that. I think that I'll probably be able to close some of the gaps.'

Anthony's brows went up at that, but he agreed to Greco's suggestion with a small nod. 'Well, the Aurors were informed by Harry around nine-thirty on the morning of the nineteenth that Ginny had been found dead in her bedroom. The Aurors arrived at _Stinchcombe Hall, _Ginny's last place of residence, about a quarter to ten. As mandatory in supposed homicide cases, they had an Unspeakable with them who did the external examination of the corpse.'

He paused, poured himself a glass of sparkling water, and took a sip. 'Ginny was found in her bedroom, crumpled against the wall next to her bed. The pulled down sheets and a lamp toppled over indicated that a fight might have taken place. She was naked; there was a laceration at the back of her head, but only very little blood, so the Unspeakable concluded that this injury was inflicted at or around the time of her death. He also found marks at Ginny's throat that might have been caused by an attempted strangulation.'

Harry shuddered. Had Ginny been blasted against the wall and her murderer had left her to die? Or had she been strangled to death?

'As it is mandatory procedure, the Unspeakable examined the corpse and estimated the time of Ginny's death around eight in the morning.'

'Well, that excludes Daphne. She was next to me in our bed at that time,' Harry said.

Anthony pursed his lips. 'How would you know when you were asleep?'

Harry's cheeks became warm. 'Actually, Daphne and I overslept that morning. I woke up around eight, I think. Daphne was by my side and still sound asleep. She didn't even wake up when my mobile phone buzzed a few minutes later. Lisa Finch-Fletchley, our personal assistant, called me to ask where I am. I should have been at a meeting that day ten minutes ago. The beginning of the meeting was scheduled at eight o'clock. You can ask Lisa and make a copy from my appointment calendar.'

'I will.' Anthony pulled a sheet of parchment towards him and made a note. 'What is a moby - how did you call that thing?'

'A mobile phone. It's a Muggle device, like a telephone, only without a cord. Muggles use it to communicate by voice over long distances. Daphne, I and our magical employees who also work at the Muggle part of the company have mobiles that have special protections to run in a magical environment. Devices like that are very common outside of magical Britain.'

'Fascinating,' Anthony said and added a few notes. 'What happened next?'

'Daphne hadn't been feeling well for some time, and I was worried about her, especially since she put off seeing a healer again and again. So I told Lisa to cancel all of our appointments for the rest of the day, because I was going to take Daphne to a healer and make sure she got the break she obviously needed. I ended the call and decided to let Daphne sleep some more. I must have drifted off to sleep again, for the next thing I remember is Matty waking me up and telling me that Director McLean wanted to see Daphne and me.'

Anthony put the quill down and sighed. 'That should be enough for any other panel of judges. However, if Geoffrey Roper manages to pull enough strings and somehow cobbles together a panel of judges that can be coerced into his way of thinking, it's unlikely that they will they listen to the explanations of the Unspeakable whose method of investigation is based on Muggle science.'

A deep frown appeared on Greco's face. 'That means we need to present the panel of judges with the real perpetrator, or Mrs Potter will end up in Azkaban.'

Anthony nodded. 'Unfortunately, yes. Though, we can have Daphne give her statement under Veritaserum. The judges can't brush that aside.'

Harry startled. Was it possible for Daphne to take such a strong potion this early in her pregnancy without endangering their child?

Daphne already shook her head. 'That's not possible, Anthony.' A pretty blush crept in her cheeks. 'Yesterday Harry and I got the wonderful news that I'm pregnant. You have no idea how long we've waited for that moment. There's no way I'm endangering my baby; I'd rather go to Azkaban.'

An icy hand clasped around Harry's heart, and his breath hitched. Of course she'd decide that way, she wouldn't be his Daphne otherwise.

Anthony sighed. 'I suppose congratulations are in order, although, if I'm allowed to say so, your timing is a trifle unfortunate. At least you can offer the panel of judges an oath on your magic instead, although that doesn't have quite the impact as a testimony under Veritaserum: a magical oath can be circumvented, Veritaserum cannot. '

Silence descended on the room. Daphne linked her fingers with Harry's. Her hand was cold and trembled in his.

Greco was the first to break the silence. 'You'd better fill us in about the case the DMLE has built against Mrs Potter, Mr Goldstein. I think I have a lead or two we ought to explore.'

'Well, Dawlish didn't like at all the examinations the Unspeakable conducted and called him off the case before he could finish. He claimed that observance of the _Old Faith_ forbade any disturbances of Ginny's lingering soul and forbade that Ginny's body was brought into the morgue at the Ministry of Magic for an autopsy. He claimed the Weasleys might want to perform a ritual for the transition of her soul, as it is custom in some Pureblood families.'

Harry snorted at that. 'He knows the Weasleys were called Bloodtraitors for a reason during the war, does he? They don't adhere to the _Old Faith _anymore.'

Anthony gave him a grim smile. 'You bet he does. He just didn't want to uncover evidence that might weaken the case against Daphne. As a result the cause of Ginny's death is yet undecided. She might have died because of the injury she suffered when she was blasted into the wall, but she might as well have been strangled first and her body been blasted into the wall in a fit of prosecution is claiming the latter. I suppose we'll never know. The body was left where it was, and the crime scene was released to Ginny's parents yesterday.'

Nicholas Greco cleared his throat and looked at Harry. 'Head Auror Weasley informed me yesterday that he took charge of his sister's body and arranged for an autopsy being performed on her corpse by the Unspeakables. He promised to send you a copy of the report as soon as he gets it.'

A smile crept over Harry's face. 'Ron always had a good head on his shoulder in a crisis.'

Greco returned his smile. 'He said the same about you, Mr Potter.'

Anthony let out a deep breath. 'That should make things easier for us, especially when the D.M.L.E. is wrong about the cause of death. The file shows that Daphne's wand has been confiscated when she was arrested and is currently kept at the evidence room of the DMLE. As of yet, nobody performed _Priori Incantatem _on it.'

Harry shook his head. 'What a bunch of morons.'

'I agree,' Anthony said. He turned to Daphne. 'I'm planning on asking of having _Priori Incantatem _performed on your wand in front of the panel of judges, so you'd better tell me now if you and Harry had had a spat lately where you used the Blasting Hex on your husband.'

Daphne became rigid in her seat, and her beautiful eyes glared at Anthony. 'Of course not. The test will show the Levitation Charm, the Disarming Charm and the Full Body Bind Curse I have already admitted to having used on Ginny, but nothing else, except a few Glamour Charms.'

Anthony grinned at her. 'I expected that much, as loved up as you and Harry always are.'

That got him a huff from Daphne.

Not intimidated at all by Daphne's now glowering face, he returned to the file. 'Except for Ginny's bedroom, no other room at _Stinchcombe Hall _was examined. Another glaring mistake, if you ask me.'

Once again, Nicholas Greco cleared his throat. 'Mr Weasley gave me permission to examine the crime scene, and I had a look at the rooms of _Stinchcombe Hall _Ms Weasley had used in the days prior to her death. I found Ms Weasley's appointment calendar in the private living room next to her bedroom and took it with me. In her bathroom I found a high number of vials with custom made Pain Relief Potions. I sent one of the vials to Head Auror Weasley to be examined together with the body. Maybe Ms Weasley was under the influence of potions when she died, and her death can be blamed on an accident. Even more important, I also inspected the safe in her dressing room. The head house elf informed me that a big brown envelope with a noticeable red stamp on it is missing from the safe. Maybe the content of that envelope was the reason Ms Weasley had to die. The house elf also confirmed Ms Weasley had a guest after Mrs Potter left.'

Anthony shot Harry a broad grin. 'I don't know what you pay him, Harry, but he's worth every Knut.'

'I know, if he continues like this there may be a big fat bonus coming his way too!' Harry replied, and had to suppress a chuckle at the pleased expression on Greco's face he tried in vain to hide. He motioned Anthony with his hand to continue.

'Well, after he had left _Stinchcombe Hall, _Dawlish went to _The Burrow _to interview Ginny's family. He interviewed Mr Weasley first, but the poor man still seemed to have been in shock, for Dawlish couldn't get out of him anything beside "I don't know."' He turned a page in his folder. 'Mrs Weasley, however, was just the opposite.'

He raised his head and looked at Daphne. 'I'm sorry to be the one to tell you that she accused you of the murder of her daughter. She claims Harry was blackmailed into marrying you by your father. According to Molly Weasley he never stopped loving Ginny and planned on divorcing you. You knew about his plans, were jealous of Ginny, and at Veterans Ball you assaulted Ginny without any provocation on her part and threatened her and I quote "she was to leave Harry alone or you would kill her" or words to that effect.'

He paused and looked from Daphne to Harry. 'You'd better tell me how much of her accusations are true. The public will be ready to tear Daphne apart as soon as Roper reveals the blackmail part.'

Harry and Daphne exchanged a long look at Anthony's last words. Daphne shook her head as if in denial, while she fingered her necklace with one hand. 'Will she?'

'You bet,' Harry said, a grim smile around his lips. He pressed her hand that was still in his. 'She'd milk everything she can get her hands on to paint us in the worst light possible. You would seem as a heartless bitch, very likely capable of murder if it suited your ends, and I would seem like a pussy-whipped wimp anyone would think twice to put their trust upon to lead magical Britain.'

He turned his head towards Anthony. 'Unfortunately, it is true. However, I'll be forever thankful to Cyrus for that.' He bent towards Daphne and gave her a kiss on the cheek. 'If this point is being brought up - and it will - call me into the witness box. I have a few things that I can tell the panel of judges that will blow Roper's story apart.'

Although that wouldn't be enough, Roper most likely would leak that juicy bit of information to the press, too, in an attempt to condemn Daphne even more in the public eye. He'd have to counteract that, though discreetly. McLean was just the right man for that.

Anthony gave him a long look. 'Well, you're probably in the best position to know what happened between you and Daphne. A passionate statement from you will go a long way in Daphne's defence.'

Greco cleared his throat. 'A few weeks after the end of the war Mr Greengrass asked me to investigate Ms Weasley. I found out she was seeing Mr Zabini, who later became her agent, while she was supposed to be Mr Potter's steady girlfriend. The relationship continued even through at least three of her four marriages, and Ms Weasley's father told me yesterday that he is sure she still was in a relationship with him when she returned to England. Her calendar confirmed that suspicion: she and Zabini used to meet at rather unusual times.'

'Isn't it risky trying to malign the reputation of the victim as part of the defence?' Harry asked.

'That depends,' Anthony said. 'If this angle brings up another suspect, I'm all for it.' He gave Harry a fleeting side glance. 'Their relationship during the war was Hogwarts best kept open secret, I think. I had no idea you knew.'

Harry let out a short laugh. 'I knew right from the beginning. That knowledge helped a lot to get over Ginny and make me see the light.' He pressed Daphne's hand, and she gave him a small smile in return.

Greco pulled a notepad out from his pocket and flipped it open. 'I had a long discussion with Arthur Weasley yesterday. He is convinced that their relationship still continued until the day Ms Weasley died. He's suspicious of Mr Zabini's alleged relationship with the mob and thinks Ms Weasley might have been killed because of her involvement in some of his shadier businesses. That's a lead I'm going to investigate deeper, though it will take time to follow the flow of the money.'

He flipped to the next page of his notes. 'When I read Ms Weasley's appointment calendar, I came across an entry that suggests she'd begun seeing someone beside Mr Zabini. Unfortunately, she mentioned no name, she called that person "weapon". This morning I talked to the Goblin realtor Ms Weasley contacted right after her return to England, as well as to Director McLean and Mr Patterson from Crystal Fairy. They all had the impression that Ms Weasley was very keen on her privacy. A new lover in her life might be the reason for that need for privacy, which sheds another light on the case. He might have found out about her relationship with Zabini and killed her in a bout of jealousy. Unfortunately, I've not yet made any progress to discover the identity of "weapon". Zabini has not yet answered to my letter in which I asked him for a meeting.'

Daphne had become very still at Greco's last words, and stared ahead, her lip between her teeth and a frown on her face. She pushed a strand of hair out of her face, took a deep breath, and turned to Harry. 'Is it possible that "weapon" is Williams?'

'Well, I'd call Williams many things, but "weapon" is the last thing that comes to my mind if I think of him,' Harry said with a small laugh.

'You're looking at it all wrong, honey,' Daphne said with a shake of her head. 'From the way she acted around you each time you met it's safe to say she wanted to get you back into her clutches. That didn't play out like she had planned, which must've become blindingly obvious to her after the incident at the promotion party. However, Williams, that hunk of a man, took care of her when you ignored her. What if she thought in her deluded state of using Williams as a means to make you jealous? That would explain "weapon", I think.'

Greco's eyes had never left Daphne's face as she talked. 'Williams, you said?' he asked, and leafed through his notebook. 'Remember the other investigation you asked me to do after the party, Mr Potter? My contact in the U.S.A. got back to me yesterday late at night. He found out that Morten Williams was a roommate of Elias Frudge, Clay Cheevers and Alexander Carrington at Salem. Elias Frudge was Ms Weasley's first husband who is, according to my contact, still pissed about the compensation he had to pay her when they were divorced. Clay Cheevers was Ms Weasley's teammate at the Taos Tornados.'

He took a deep breath. 'I know you've never examined your father's file cabinet, Mrs Potter, or you would've found the file about the investigation Mr Greengrass asked me to do into his brother Dorian right after the Battle of Hogwarts. I found out Mr Dorian Greengrass went to the U.S.A. after he had been cast out by his father. There he got involved with a witch from Salem named Nancy Carrington. Alexander Carrington is their only child.'

Harry's stomach lurched, and he gasped. That couldn't be! Beside him, Daphne had become even paler.

Anthony, however, let out a low whistle. He raised his head and looked at Harry and Daphne, a slow grin spreading over his face. 'He _is_ worth every Knut you pay him. He just provided us with at least half a dozen possibilities for Ginny's murderer that will blow a huge hole into Roper's charges.'

'Yeah, but will that be enough as long as we're not able to prove that Ginny had a visitor that night and don't know his identity?' Harry said.

'What about the elves?' Daphne asked.

Anthony shook his head. 'They are not qualified as a means of evidence, Daphne, since they belong to your husband. He could simply order them to lie for you.'

'I don't mean you to question them at court. We could question them now about who entered _Stinchcombe Hall_after I left, and Mr Greco can work from there to obtain additional evidence against that person.'

The young barrister gaped at her. 'Why didn't I think of that? It's so obvious, isn't it? If Harry ever fires you from Crystal Fairy, I could use you in my team at the firm.'

'No way, not happening, Goldstein, keep your grubby mits of my wife's career,' Harry said, which caused a round of low chuckles. He leaned back in his chair and called, 'Annie!'

The next moment an elf appeared beside his chair with a soft _pop, _clad in a pristine white tea towel with red piping. 'How can Annie serve master?'

'Annie, you already told the Aurors that Mistress Daphne brought Miss Ginny into the hall of _Stinchcombe Hall _and ordered you to free her from the spells she'd put on her some time after Mistress Daphne had left the house. We also know Miss Ginny had another visitor after that. Well, elves always know if someone passes the wards, so can you tell me who Miss Ginny's visitor was?'

Annie's ears drooped and she shook her head. 'Annie bes sorry, master. Annie sensed a visitor passing the wards, but Annie not know his name. Miss Ginny opened the door. Annie never saw the visitor.'

A fist seemed to punch him into the gut, and Harry exhaled. Bugger! He'd been so sure the questioning of the elf would be a major break through.

Daphne gave him a small smile and put her hand on his balled fist. 'Annie, why don't you tell us everything you know from the moment I left the house until Director McLean went up into Miss Ginny's bedroom?'

The small creature gave an eager nod. 'Annie can do that. Annie is a good elf and waited fifteen minutes after Mistress Daphne had left the house before Annie unbind Miss Ginny. Miss Ginny was not happy with Annie.' The expressive ears drooped again.

Harry furrowed his brows. 'I hope she didn't punish you.'

Annie shook her head. 'Miss Ginny yelled at Annie for a long time. Yells do not hurt. Miss Ginny ordered Annie to prepare a cold dinner for two, lay it out in the dining room with Stasis Charms, and leave Miss Ginny alone until she call for Annie again. Annie do what Miss Ginny say and go to her room after that.'

'What happened then?' Harry asked.

'Annie think it was about an hour later when a visitor passed the outer wards. The visitor was not keyed into the wards, and Annie do not know his name. Miss Ginny opened the door and let the visitor in. They go into the dining room. Two hours later they go up to Miss Ginny's bedroom.' The elf pinked at these words.

Daphne gave her an encouraging smile. 'That's alright, Annie. When did the visitor leave?'

The elf scrunched up it's long nose. 'That bes the next morning. Annie bes in the kitchen and preparing breakfast for Miss Ginny, and the wards told Annie the visitor left and another visitor came.'

'Another visitor?' Harry gasped, and the four humans around the table gaped at Annie.

Annie gave a vigorous nod that had her ears flapping. 'This visitor had access to the house. When Miss Ginny came to master's house, Miss Ginny got permission to key weekend guests into the wards. Miss Ginny do not need enter the name for that. Miss Ginny keyed that visitor to the wards. He visited Miss Ginny almost every day. Annie do not know his name, Miss Ginny never say name to Annie.' She stared onto the floor with drooped ears.

'That's alright, Annie, you have no idea how much you helped us. You are a very good house elf! You may go now.' Harry praised the small creature.

The drooped ears perked up, Annie raised her head and beamed at Harry. 'Annie bes happy to serve the great Master Harry Potter.' With that, she apparated away.

Anthony was the first to recover from the surprising revelations. 'Well, Greco, you have your work cut out. Find out the names of the visitors, and then find out which one killed Ginny Weasley.'

_t.b.c_


	24. Chapter 24

_ **London, May 22nd 2008** _

He whistled a soft tune as he sat down at the breakfast table. Life was just wonderful, everything was going in his favour for a change. The Weasley bitch was taken care of; she couldn't blab his secrets anymore. The Potter whore also was as good as out of the picture. The DMLE wouldn't have pressed charges against her that soon if they weren't pretty sure they could nail her for Weasley's death. As soon as she'd been carted off to Azkaban it would be a piece of cake to deal with a heartbroken Potter and then finally his father and mother could rest in peace.

The elves had placed _The Daily Prophet _beside his plate. How anyone could call that rag a newspaper was beyond him, but the exaggerated and mostly false stories never ceased to amuse him.

What was today's fairy tale of the day? He picked up the paper and unfolded it.

Most space of the front page was taken up by a blurry, unprofessional looking photo of Potter and his whore leaving a ward at St Mungo's. They weren't aware that they were being photographed. As always, they had their arms around each other and were looking at each other with that goofy expression that never failed to set off his gag reflex. Vomit inducing the pair of them were, fawning over each other in public like that

His eyes wandered to the headline below the picture.

_ **Accused in Weasley Murder Case Pregnant?** _

He jumped in his seat. What? That couldn't be, not after the poisoning of the whore five years ago; the potions she had had to take to counteract the poison would have impacted her fertility for years to come. The paper shook in his hands as he seethed inwardly. Weasley! That meddling bloody Mudblood, that explained what all those off the books experiments were that he couldn't get a read on. That interfering little wench had somehow cured the Potter whore, if everything went well he might have to find time before he abandoned England to thank her personally for her efforts.

Taking a steadying breath he focussed his attention back on the paper. The short article along with the accompanying photo and headline didn't help much to calm his nerves. As always, the star reporter of _The Daily Prophet, _one Rita Skeeter, knew next to nothing and made the most out of it. Her speculations about the state of the Potter marriage and the supposed triangle with Weasley were ridiculous, especially the fake-sympathetic question if the baby was Potter's.

Of course it was, anyone who'd taken longer than a cursory glance at the Potters had to know how deep their feelings for each other were. Also, even though Weasley had thrown herself at him, Potter had made it very clear he wasn't interested and had showered his wife with pronounced and in his opinion lascivious attention after each incident. Lastly, there had never been even the slightest hint of the Potter whore and another man, everyone could see that she was sickeningly in love with Potter.

Gods damn it all, he couldn't allow the baby to be born, it would give Potter something to anchor his life to after his wife had wasted away because of the despair Azkaban still emanated. Not to mention that he wasn't about to let Daphne Potter leave an heir behind in this world. Was it possible to arrange a fatal accident for her as soon as she reached the island? Probably, prison guards were badly paid worldwide and never averse to a quick Knut on the side.

He glared at the fuzzy picture, given that it was likely the Prophet had at least managed to get the fact she was pregnant right, he'd better make sure that the whore would end up in Azkaban for good. Weasley had been a well of - admittedly outdated - information, but he'd hit a gold mine in the end: the fact that Potter had been blackmailed into marrying his wife and his frequent meetings with his ex whenever he visited the U.S.A. were just what he needed to add fuel to the suspicions already levelled against the whore, especially since the whore knew of every meeting because of the photos Weasley had sent her. It was doubtful the D.M.L.E. knew about that; neither Potter nor his wife would've been dumb enough to mention anything that would lend credence to the theory she had murdered Weasley out of jealousy.

He got up from the breakfast table, ignoring the now cooling food, walked into his study and sat down behind his ornate desk, picking up a quill and a sheet of parchment. The smile around his lips became deeper with each minute he wrote. The wizarding public would love to get more insights into the workings of the love triangle among Potter, his whore, and Weasley. How fortunate he'd managed to persuade the redhead to give him the copies of the photos she had of Potter and herself. They'd come in handy with the investigation of the D.M.L.E. He pulled a big, brown manila envelope with a noticeable red stamp out of the drawer of his desk and added it to the letter.

He didn't bother to sign the letter and called his personal elf. 'Seedy!'

'Master has called his worthless servant?'

He handed the letter and the envelope to the elf. 'Take this to the Ministry of Magic and leave it with Madam Roper. Make sure you're not seen.'

Seedy bowed and vanished with that annoying _plop _of house elf Apparition.

The antique clock on the sideboard in the entrance hall chimed once. It was about time for him to leave for work. It was going to be a long and arduous one, no doubt the alleged pregnancy of the whore would be the only topic at Crystal Fairy today.

_t.b.c._


	25. Chapter 25

_ **Nicholas Greco's house, May 22nd 2008** _

Nicholas Greco was a busy man, so he paid the outrageous fees the Goblins at Gringotts charged for their Banishing Boxes with gritted teeth. There was no denying mail delivery - magical as well as Muggle - was much faster this way, which gave him an advantage over his competitors.

As always, the box was full to the brim when he opened it with a flick of his wand. He sat down at his desk with the thick bundle of letters, grabbed for the paper knife, and began the tedious business of sorting his daily mail. Most of the letters were from Muggle registries, answers to inquiries he'd made for a couple of financial background checks. However, there were also three letters pertaining to his latest and most complex case: the defence of one Daphne Potter.

He pushed his other mail aside and read these three letters first, this afterall was the most important case of his career and he'd be damned if he'd let that little girl whom he'd watch grow up go to jail. They were answers to letters he'd written yesterday evening, after the meeting with the Potters and Anthony Goldstein, Mrs Potter's defence barrister. They needed quick results, there was only little more than one week left until the trial would start.

The first letter was from Arthur Weasley, a reply to his request to have a closer look at Ms Weasley's estate. Arthur informed him that he'd already asked his oldest son Bill, a Curse Breaker with Gringotts, to have a look, in the hope to find something incriminating against Zabini, and that Nicholas' expertise was highly welcomed for an in-depth investigation.

A broad grin appeared on Greco's face, and he at once scribbled a short letter to Bill Weasley to arrange an appointment.

The grin vanished from his face when he read the next letter. Zabini informed him in rather curt words that he'd have no time for a talk in the foreseeable future. Well, in the light of Annie's revelation that wasn't surprising. They'd discussed the new leads at length and come to the conclusion that most likely Zabini was the visitor who'd arrived in the morning, while Williams probably was the visitor who had stayed for the night. Had Zabini smelled a rat? He was a Pureblood, there was a high probability he knew the elves had sensed his arrival and was now trying his best to cover his tracks, especially since he was either the murderer or had at least found Ginny Weasley's dead body and didn't report it. Merlin damn the slippery bastard, now he'd have to find out Zabini's haunts, hope he'd catch him and then, more impossibly, hope that Zabini actually would be willing to answer his questions - which was doubtful. The gods only knew where and when he'd find the time for that routine piece of work.

At least the last letter had somewhat good news: Williams agreed to meet him that afternoon at his flat in London. However, he'd have preferred to talk to Williams after he got the additional informations from his contact in the USA he'd asked for yesterday evening.

Oh well, you couldn't have everything. He grabbed for the stack of letters he'd cast to the side in favour of the letters on the Potter case. He'd better get his mail out of the way right now; the sooner he'd be able to search for the elusive Mr Zabini, the better.

* * *

Nicholas walked into the spacious entrance hall of the apartment house near Hyde Park. The concierges table was discreetly hidden in a niche of the room. Nicholas stepped to the table and announced himself.

'My name is Nicholas Greco. Mr Williams is expecting me.'

He took the time of the concierge announcing his arrival to have a closer look at his surroundings.

There was gleaming marble everywhere he looked, and in the middle of the hall a veritable fountain sent crystal clear jets of water into the air. Sunbeams falling into the high-ceilinged room through tall windows broke in the rays of water and painted an ever changing mural in all colours of the rainbow on the marble walls.

Nicholas let out a silent whistle. Housing in London didn't come cheap, and this apartment building was at the top of the scale. That impression was strengthened when he rode up in the gilded, thick-carpeted elevator to the eighth floor and found himself in another entrance hall, slightly smaller than its counterpart on the ground floor, with the same gleaming marble covering the floors and the walls, and a colourful oriental carpet and genuine oil paintings adorning the room.

The tall oak door opposite the elevator opened, and a haggard looking house elf bowed before him. 'Master bes expecting you, Mr Greco.'

The elf held the door open for him. Something in his posture was strange, and Nicholas took another look.

The elf held one of his arms rather unnatural, as if it was stiff. Poor creature; how had that happened?

More gleaming marble in the entrance hall of the apartment, this time interspersed with a mural made of golden tiles. The elf ushered Nicholas into a reception room opposite of the entrance. The big, ornate desk in one corner of the room marked it as a study, though comfortable leather chairs scattered around the room and a bar made up in an ancient cabin trunk suggested it was also a private retreat. Through an open door Nicholas caught a look into an adjoining cavernous reception room and suppressed another whistle.

Morgana's tits, how could Morten Williams afford such a splendor? The earnings of a Potion Master, no matter how good, would never pay for all this.

Morten Williams, who rose from a leather chair in front of the window with a commanding look over Hyde Park, interrupted his musings.

'Mr Greco, how do you do?'

They shook hands, Williams invited him to sit down on the leather couch in front of the fireplace, took a seat in a chair at the side of the couch, crossed his feet at the ankles, and put his hands on the armrests.

Nicholas took stock of his appearance. The Potters both had told him that Williams' success with the ladies was the stuff of legends at Crystal Fairy. Now he understood why; the man stood out among British males. Tall and broad shouldered, with unruly, sun-streaked locks, a body that might have been a model for Michelangelo, and innocent boyish looks to go with that he was the human equivalent to a fox set loose in the chicken coop of Crystal Fairy's female and single employees.

'How can I be of service, Mr Greco? You wrote Mr Potter asked you to investigate the last hours of Ms Weasley's life in preparation for Mrs Potter's defence. I have to say, I'm as shocked as anyone about the charges pressed against her. I don't think she's capable of cold blooded murder, and of course I want to help in any way I can. The Potters are such a likeable young couple, it's a shame they have to go through this.'

'Mr Williams, I don't like beating around the bush,' Nicholas said and opened his notepad, his biro at the ready. 'It was brought to my attention that you and Ms Weasley left the promotional party together. This makes you a person of interest as one of the last persons been seen with her. May I ask about the nature of your relationship with Ms Weasley?'

A blush crept into Williams' face that enhanced his boyish looks. 'Well, you surely don't mince words, Mr Greco.' His fingers gripped around the armrest. 'I suppose you've also heard about the incident with the barbecue grill?'

Nicholas nodded to that.

'Ms Weasley… Ginny was bowled over when Mr Potter Summoned his wife towards him to rescue her from the flames. Naturally, he was very concerned for her and made sure she was alright. It was plain to see Ginny felt somewhat neglected by him, so I stepped in and supported her. It's my understanding that Ginny returned to England only recently and has… had lost contact to most of her old friends, so maybe it was not surprising she reacted to my gesture much… uh... friendlier than I had expected.' The boyish blush on his face deepened, and he gave an embarrassed shrug of his shoulders.

'I'm only a man, and if a beautiful woman like Ginny asks you to take her home, you don't say no. While I believe that a real gentleman should kiss and never tell, I also want to make sure that Ginny's murder is caught. So, yes, we spent the night together. I left early in the morning.'

'Thank you for your openness, Mr Williams. Did you and Ms Weasley meet again in the two days that led up to her death?'

Again, Williams gripped his hands around the armrests for a brief moment. 'Yes, we met on Sunday for dinner, and we had another date planned for Monday afternoon. Ginny came to my flat in the afternoon, but had to leave a short time later because of problems with the photo shoot she'd had that morning. I never again saw her.' He pressed his lips in a tight line, and his left foot tapped the ground.

A jolt went through Nicholas' body, and his heartbeat sped up. He schooled his face into a bland mask, while his insides did a small jig. Mrs Potter had been right, Williams was "weapon". From the looks of the man he didn't have to be a genius to realise that Ms Weasley had meant to use him to evoke Mr Potter's jealousy. However, it might have worked in very different ways she envisioned.

He cast Williams another look. So, Williams tried to hide his rendez-vous with Ginny on Monday night. His body language was a dead give-away, the crossed ankles, tapping foot, and hands gripped around the armrests were a sign he felt uncomfortable, maybe even afraid. Wasn't there a faint sheen of sweat on his upper lip, too? Had Williams killed Ginny Weasley in a fit of jealousy because he found out about her relationship with Zabini and had realised she'd used him?

'May I ask where you were from Monday around four to Tuesday morning around eight?'

Again, there was that almost imperceptible gripping of the armrest. Williams was going to serve him another lie.

'After Ms Weasley had to cancel our date, I spent the afternoon at my flat.' Williams made a gesture with his hand that included the room. 'I retired to bed around midnight, got up at seven and went to work about a quarter to eight. My elves can vouch for that.'

Nicholas closed his notepad, put the pad and the biro into his pocket, and got to his feet. 'Thank you for your time, Mr Williams. You helped a lot to shed some light on this case.'

On his way down to the entrance hall Nicholas pondered the interview. Something with the alibi Williams had given him didn't ring true. Well, it very likely wasn't true, since Williams probably had been Ginny Weasley's dinner guest and bed partner. However, how to prove that?

Nicholas still pondered that problem when the elevator halted and the doors opened. Nicholas stepped into the splendor of the entrance hall.

Come to think of it, nothing about Morten Williams rang true. He couldn't put his finger on it, not yet, but his gut that had never failed him in his long and successful career told him that Mr Morten Williams warranted a closer investigation, and not only because of his possible involvement in the death of Ginevra Weasley.

_t.b.c_


	26. Chapter 26

_ **Morten Williams' flat, May 22nd 2008** _

He looked out of the window that overlooked Hyde Park and listened to the elf ushering Greco towards the door, his stomach was still twisted in a hard knot, and his jaw clenched. How close on his heels was Greco? Had it been a mistake to admit to his date with Weasley on Monday afternoon?

The front door clicked shut, the small noise almost drowned out by the hammering of his heart, followed by tiny elven feet scurrying across the hall towards the kitchen.

He let out a deep breath of relief, and his shoulders slumped forward. No, he'd had to admit to Weasley's visit in his flat; she'd been announced by the concierge, all Greco had to do was asking him to find out that he'd been lying, and that would have opened him up to further scrutiny.

And yet, the prickling of his skin and this extra awareness that made every noise louder and every colour just a little brighter wouldn't fade away.

Was he in danger of being found out?

He took a deep breath and tried to engage his paltry Occlumency shields to calm himself down. The hammering in his chest subsided slowly, and the ability to think rationally set in once again.

No, if anything, Greco was suspicious of Williams involvement in the death of Ginevra Weasley. He'd never suspect that there was also a dark wizard behind the facade of the surfer boy, and what his greater scheme was. Why should he?

He lowered his head and cupped his chin in thought, had it been a mistake not to admit to having spend the night with Weasley? The problem with admitting that he'd been there was that he had no idea who that other wizard was who'd almost barged in on them early in the morning! The slut must have died almost immediately after he'd made a hasty retreat. Admitting to have stayed with her was like sticking his neck into the hangman's noose. Magical Britain was still fundamentally corrupt, unlike magical U.S.A., he had no desire to play the scapegoat in the case of the murder of Weasley, especially considering the money that the bastard Potter and the Greengrass whore had to bring to bare on the potential subject of his guilt.

Well, Williams was expendable if Greco decided to sink his teeth into him. He'd sacrifice him in a heartbeat if push came to shove and flee to France. That was still close enough to finish his great plan. He cast a side glance at the trunk in his study. Thanks to his permanent guest it would be no problem to provide Greco with a body and the end of this particular lead.

But not yet. The agony in Potter's eyes and the fear of his whore were so amusing. It would be a shame to miss the climax of the theatrics, when the happy couple was torn apart.

Yes, he still had time until the end of the trial.

_t.b.c._


	27. Chapter 27

_ **Nicholas Greco's house, May 22nd 2008** _

It had been a long day. The hunt for Zabini yielded no results. It was almost midnight when Nicholas sat down at the desk in his small office and added his interview with Morten Williams to the file. He'd just finished and decided to call it a day, when the Banishing Box on his desk chimed, a sign of new incoming mail.

Nicholas jumped. Was that the report from his contact in the States he'd been waiting for? A tap of his wand revealed a manila folder at the bottom of the box. He picked it up and looked at the sender. It was.

'Yesss!' He pumped his fist in the air, before collecting himself and sitting back at his desk.

With eager fingers he tore the envelope open, and four thin folders slid into his hands. They were labelled _Clay Cheevers, Alexander Carrington, Elias Frudge _and _Morten Williams. _He flipped the first folder about Clay Cheevers open and began to read.

Cheevers had led a significantly public life, at least from the moment he'd begun to play Quidditch. The scion of a wealthy East Coast family, he'd been homeschooled and had then attended the Salem Institute to obtain a mastery in Herbology, where he had become best friends with his roommates Frudge and Williams. He'd joined the college Quidditch team during his first semester and at once had become the star Chaser of the team. The Taos Tornados had offered him a contract the moment he'd finished his studies, and he'd stayed on the team as a starting Chaser ever since then. A couple of years ago he'd married the proverbial girl from next door, obviously his childhood sweetheart, and meanwhile they had two kids. The summary of the mere fact was accompanied by a stack of newspaper clippings and photos.

There was no hint about an affair between Cheevers and Weasley; in fact, not the smallest trace of scandal was connected to Cheevers' name, everyone his contact had talked to had only good things to say about the man. His only connection to the Weasley case seemed to be that he'd been teammates with her, was best friends with two men who'd been involved with her, and was acquainted with a third who was related to Daphne Potter.

Nicholas lowered the folder. Was that just freak happenstance? Well, stranger things happened. It was hard to see why a man like Cheevers, who seemed to be a thoroughly likeable fellow and happily married man, should harbour a grudge against Ginny Weasley big enough to kill her.

He put down Cheever's folder and picked up the next one, Alexander Carrington, which was much slimmer than the other three. In fact, it contained just one sheet of paper, on which his contact had listed the main stations of Carrington's life. A blurred photo of a young man in black robes supporting a small woman, also in black, who had pressed a handkerchief to her eyes, was attached to the sheet.

Contrary to Cheevers, Carrington had led a very private life. The Carringtons were insanely rich and infamous for their Pureblood Supremacist leanings. There were the still unsubstantiated rumours of Carrington gold supporting Voldemort in both wars. A couple of years before Voldemort's first downfall Nancy Carrington, the last of her family and heiress to the vast fortune, had married a young wizard from England, allegedly one of Voldemort's followers, who had been cast out by his family for his political leanings.

Nicholas lowered the sheet of paper in his hands. That had been Dorian Greengrass; apparently his contact in the U.S.A. hadn't made the connection to Cyrus Greengrass and his daughter. He read on.

Alexander was the only child of Nancy Carrington and Dorian Greengrass, and his mother insisted he should carry the Carrington name. He'd been homeschooled until he was eleven, and then been sent to Durmstrang. He'd returned after his N.E.W.T.s, and obtained a Potions Mastery at the Salem Institute, where he roomed with Cheevers, Frudge and Williams. While the latter three were best friends, according to Cheevers' file, Carrington seemed to have been the odd one out, though he sometimes was included in their group.

After his graduation he'd worked for a short time as a Potions Master for Frudge's company, more out of interest for the subject than of real need, until he was called home because of the death of his father, and had to take care of his ailing mother after that. He lived with his mother until her death in 2003, when he closed the Carrington house in Salem, Massachusetts, and moved to Paris, France. Unlike his parents, Carrington had never given a hint about his political leanings, so he was widely assumed to be neutral.

Nicholas leaned back in his chair, lowered his head and burrowed his chin in his hand. The lack of material in the Carrington folder seemed off. Very few scions in the upper echelons of society led such a secluded life. Of course, his mother's illness and his family's reputation might have made him an outcast among his peers. Yet, it was more than that, the report read as if Carrington was almost invisible.

Nicolas tapped his fingers against his chin, eyes unfocused and rearranged what he knew, but even that didn't seem to sit right with what he knew of the Carrington family. He studied the photo that had come with the meagre report. Yes, "invisible" described Alexander Carrington to a tee. While his three roommates all were exceptionally handsome young man, Carrington was the ugly duckling of the lot. He wasn't much taller than his mother, with mouse coloured hair and unremarkable features, a man you met and wouldn't recognise again the next time. Life at Salem with three popular and handsome roommates wouldn't have been easy for him.

Though, there still was the possibility that Carrington had made up for his lack of adventure during his student days in Paris. The gods knew that he had enough money to make his looks negligible.

He chewed on his bottom lip slightly before coming to a decision, he'd better involve one of his contacts in France. Nicholas pulled a sheet of parchment towards him, penned a short letter, included a copy of Carrington's file, and put everything into the Banishing Box.

He looked briefly at his wristwatch: it was well past midnight already. Elizabeth as usual wouldn't be overly impressed if he joined her in bed in the wee hours of the morning. However, after more than thirty years of marriage she was used to the demands of his job, and her complaints barely hid her concern for his health, even if the pay was more than sufficient to keep them in minor luxury. Well, it wouldn't be good for his health, either, if his curiosity to find out more about Frudge and Williams didn't let him sleep anyway.

He picked up the next folder. Compared to Carrington, Elias Frudge had enjoyed all the advantages of a privileged magical upbringing. He'd lost his father early in life and had apparently been the apple of his mother's eye. He'd first entered a private Muggle primary school in his hometown, at age eleven he left it and started his magical education at Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. From there he'd joined Salem Institute and had obtained a mastery in Herbology, as well as being a very active participant in the student community. He'd graduated at the top of his class and joined the family business immediately thereafter. The wad of newspaper clippings and photos added to the report illustrated that part of his life and was even thicker than the wad that had come with Cheevers' report.

Things had become significantly quieter around Frudge after the unexpected death of his mother not long after his graduation from Salem Institute. The young man seemed to have missed her dearly, and seemed to have longed for a family, and faded somewhat into the background of upper class society.

It appeared that it was then that Ginevra Weasley had come into his life. He had fallen for her head over heels and had eloped with her a couple of weeks later. The next two years were defined by a lot of photos of the young couple that showed a beaming Elias Frudge with his adoring wife.

The announcement of their separation had come like a bolt of lightning out of the blue for everyone, including social commentators. While it appeared that Ginny Weasley had continued her life and career as if nothing had happened, Frudge had become even more reclusive than after his mother had died, almost a hermit even. For about six years after their separation he made no public appearance outside of events his family business was involved in.

Then about one year ago Frudge had surprised the magical society of his country with the announcement of his second marriage.

Nicholas studied the photo of the happy couple. The bride was the spitting image of Ginevra Weasley.

He let out a slow whistle and put the photo back into the folder. It seemed Elias Frudge had never got over Ginny Weasley. Had his fixation on her led to a resentment deep enough to kill her? It was a lead worth investigating. He pulled a sheet of parchment to himself and wrote a letter to his contact in the U.S.A.. They needed an in-depth account of Frudge's movements in the days between Ginny Weasley's move back to England and her death.

Morten Williams' file was slimmer than the files of Cheevers and Frudge, but still a lot thicker than Carrington's file. He was a Muggleborn, his formative years were spent in San Clemente, California, not far from several of the most iconic surf breaks in the USA, including T Street, Cottons and Trestles. He too had been educated at Ilvermorny, where he'd met Frudge. Though, it appeared that they seemed to have run in different circles at school and didn't become friends until they entered Salem Institute together. Williams had obtained a mastery in Potions and worked for Frudge's company a couple of years until he quit, attempting to become a professional surfer in the Muggle world. This part of his life was accompanied by a few newspaper clippings and photos. He'd never quite made it to the top and had to give up his dream after a training accident that had stubbornly refused to be fixed by magic. He'd left the U.S.A. after that and had applied for a job with a Crystal Fairy Beauty Products.

His contact had also found out Williams' Muggle relatives. Apparently, they hadn't been happy with his decision to become a professional surfer, which had led to a rift in the family. That rift seemed to have deepened after Williams' move to England: his mother complained he hadn't written home once since then, and as Muggles she and her husband had no means to reach him in magical Britain. His contact had also provided a photo of Williams' Muggle parents: a good looking couple in front of a modest home somewhere in Florida that they had moved to not long ago.

Nicolas frowned, his mind now racing. Williams came from a modest Muggle background and had never had gold beside his earnings as a Potions Master. How by Merlin's saggy underpants could he afford his lifestyle? His gut feeling had been dead on: something fundamentally didn't add up with Morten Williams, other than his lies about the last time he'd seen Ginevra Weasley.

A grin flickered across his face as he reached out for his Muggle stationary. You had to love Muggle bureaucracy, it came in handy in cases like this one. A letter to Her Majesty's Land Registry would give him the information about the ownership of Williams' luxury flat, and from there he could dig deeper.

_t.b.c._


	28. Chapter 28

_ **Ministry of Magic, May 23rd 2008** _

Saturday nights were always a busy time at the DMLE. Too many wizards and witches went out to party and had more drinks than were good for them, which led to more brawls and violations against the Statute of Secrecy than the Hit Wizards and the Obliviators could handle, so the Auror Department had to step in and make up for the shortfall in man power. It also presented an opportunity, should one need one, and for him it was just the right time to slip into his office without anyone noticing and get some papers he'd meant to work on for a long time, but never had the time to.

Every Auror on duty was busy; nobody paid him any heed when he strode through the department towards the door of his office. Although the strong Notice Me Not Charm he'd cast on himself might have something to do with that.

Ron opened the door just wide enough to slip through and threw a last look over his shoulder if anyone had seen him.

One of the Senior Aurors looked up and craned his neck out of his cubicle.

Dean. Damn it, he must have noticed the movement of his door from the corner of his eyes.

Dean's eyebrows shot up, then he gave him a conspiratorial grin and turned his attention back to the papers in front of him.

Ron let out a breath. It would be a field day for Roper if she got wind that he'd been in the office while he was supposed to be keeping away.

Before he could enter his office the Flo at the opposite side of the big room flared up. Two Aurors stepped out, Mundungus Fletcher between them. The years since the end of the war hadn't been good to the old spiv: his matted hair was completely grey, his clothing was even more shabby and faded since the last time he'd seen him, and his bulbous, purple nose bore the telltale signs of overindulgence in too much Firewhisky.

'I wanna deal!' Mundungus shouted as soon as he stepped out of the flames. 'Get tha head o' DMLE. I've got informations she bes needing to knows 'bout da Potter bird!'

Ron's insides grew cold. What by Merlin's saggy balls did Mundungus know about Daphne and could it harm her?

The two Aurors who held Fletcher exchanged a look over his head. 'You'd better inform the Deputy,' the older one said.

Aw shit, it was Proudfoot, another relic from the days before the war, and a strong supporter of Dawlish and Roper. He'd like nothing better than to find incriminating evidence against Daphne - though, what Mundungus might have found out against Daphne was beyond him. Yet, you never knew; the old scoundrel had his ear on the ground of wizarding Britain, the information he was able to come across was baffling.

Ron made up his mind within a split second. He cast a Disillusion Charm on himself, closed the door to his office, and pressed himself against the walls of the big office.

It didn't take long until Proudfoot's partner returned, Dawlish and Roper in his wake.

'We'll talk to Fletcher in the Head Auror's office,' Roper said. 'Thomas, you'll be in charge of ensuring his statement is recorded.'

'Yes, Madam Director,' Dean said, got up from his chair and opened a drawer of his desk to get out a Dicta Quill and parchment.

Proudfoot and his partner led Mundungus to the Head Auror office, with Roper and Dawlish following them. He opened the door, let Roper and Dawlish precede, and then shoved Mundungus into the room. He left the door open behind himself for Dean to follow them.

This was his chance. Ron didn't think twice, he glided through the open door and positioned himself next to it flat against the wall, the only place that wasn't covered by bookshelves and filing cabinets. Nobody noticed; everyone was still busy to find a seat. He'd acted not a second too soon, either: Dean came into the room and closed the door behind himself. His eyes flickered for the briefest of seconds towards the seemingly blank spot next to the door, and he gave him an imperceptible wink, before he conjured a chair for himself and sat down at a small side table.

How did he know? Oh well, he must have noticed a disturbance in the air when he glided into the room. Thank Merlin Dean was an ally and wouldn't blab a word to Roper.

'Well, Fletcher, what do you have to offer?' Roper asked when everything was set up.

'It's 'bout da Potter bird,' Fletcher said and licked his lips. 'Somebody want to do her in.'

'Want to do her in?' Roper's eyebrows went up.

'Yeah.' Mundungus gave an eager nod. ''eard it at the _Basilisk's Fang _in Knockturn. Someone bought a contract on the bird. Shame 'bout that. Don't find too many pretty birds like that un.'

Ron's insides went cold for a second time that night. So, he'd been right all along. All these "accidents" his friends had had to go through had been cold blooded attempted assassinations, and they were not yet over.

Roper and Dawlish exchanged a look.

'Who bought the contract?' Roper asked.

Mundungus shrugged his shoulders. 'Dunno. Ye know 't ain't working like that, ma'am. Likely been through five or six stages 'fore I got wind o' it.'

That was probably true. Mundungus was near the bottom of the criminal food chain, it was unlikely he'd learned anything more than the fact that there was a contract upon Daphne. And if he did, the old hand was too shrewd to show all his cards: knowledge like this might prove deadly if he wasn't careful.

Roper rolled her eyes, put her hands on the flat of the desk in a final gesture, and shook her head. 'That's not enough for a deal, Fletcher, and you know it. Had you offered something that had lent additional evidence to the case against Potter, things would be different. This however …' She made a short pause and shrugged. 'I doubt anyone in magical Britain cares if the bitch is dead. They'll most likely going to offer her killer an award, given that he'd free the Chosen One of her, if what was in that anonymous letter was any indication.' She waved her hand at Proudfoot. 'Take him away.'

Proudfoot and his partner hauled a protesting Mundungus up and dragged him out of the room.

Director Roper leaned back in the seat behind the desk - his seat - her outstretched arm fiddling with the corner of the blotter. 'I had hoped he had some new evidence against the Potter woman,' she said to Dawlish as soon as the Aurors and Mundungus had left the room. 'Even if that anonymous letter and all those photographs confirms our initial suspicions, more evidence is always good. We know that Potter was definitely blackmailed into marrying her by her father, with Greengrass as the willing accomplice. Nevertheless he obviously didn't let go of Weasley and met with her whenever he was in the U.S.A. She must have been furious about that. When her father died, Potter decided he could get free from her. He waited until Weasley had dissolved her last marriage, then he brought her back from the States and established her in his most luxurious house, one that happens to be strategically next to his, and gave her a huge chunk of money for doing nothing.' She let out a snort. 'Model, my backside! Paid mistress is more likely. His wife sensed the danger, and as a last resort she became pregnant to hold him. After all, they are married for ten years, and she'd never shown a sign she was willing to start a family, so why now? When that didn't work, she killed Weasley.'

She had forgotten about Dean, who still sat at the side of the room. At Roper's words, he cast a look into Ron's direction and rolled his eyes.

He was right. All Roper had was circumstantial evidence, a cauldron of conjecture and penchant to remove Harry and Daphne from their seats of power for her brother, and since when were anonymous letters a reliable source for the prosecution?

Yet he couldn't deny that Daphne was in serious trouble, there was a significant amount of that bloody circumstantial evidence, and if you squinted enough it looked damning. Roper might not have investigated properly, but that was of secondary importance if her brother managed to put together a panel of judges that was in his pocket, they wouldn't look too closely at the evidence presented by the DMLE if that was the case, anyway.

Fuck!

Still ignoring Dean, Roper got up from her seat and left the room, Dawlish in tow. She left the door ajar.

Dean gathered his papers and also got up. 'After you,' he murmured, without looking into Ron's direction. 'I'll come over to your place after my shift; there are a couple of other things you need to know.'

* * *

_ **Oxford, May 24th 2008** _

Ron couldn't get to sleep that night. Instead he lay there with far to many thoughts running through his mind, maybe this was how Hermione always felt? He had to inform Harry about the contract on Daphne first thing in the morning. And what did Dean want to tell him? Would it shed some new light on Ginny's death? Would it help Harry and Daphne? Hopefully; Dean had never belonged to their close friends during their Hogwarts days, but they had been roommates, and he'd been in the D.A., and when push came to shove he was loyal to Harry.

He turned over in his bed once more.

Hermione put a hand on his arm. 'Get some rest, love. You're going to find out what Dean wants soon enough.' Her voice sounded drowsy, and a small pang of guilt jolted through him.

This was as hard on her as it was on him. Harry was like a brother to her, and Daphne was her first and probably closest female friend. Over the last couple of days she had become very pale and withdrawn; the strain of the whole situation was obviously getting at her. What a prat he was only to think of himself at a time like this!

He turned around and took her into his arms. 'I'm sorry, my precious one, I didn't want to keep you awake all night.'

'Then quit thinking so loud and sleep, for Morgana's sake. Staying awake won't help at all.' She adjusted herself in his arms and put her head against his shoulder. Soon her breath was deep and even.

Her advice was sound, as always. He leaned his cheek against her head and closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep.

When he opened his eyes the next time, the room was bathed in the light of the early morning. Hermione was still sound asleep, cuddled against his side. He groped for his wristwatch on the flat of his bedside table and took a look. Dean's shift would be over in another thirty minutes.

With a suppressed cuss word he got up. Hermione didn't even stir. He hurried through his morning routine and went down into the kitchen to prepare some tea and breakfast. The tea-kettle whistled just in time with the sound of Dean's Apparition.

He opened the back door for him. 'Morning, Dean. Rough night?'

'You have no idea,' Dean said, suppressed a yawn, and slumped down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

Ron went to the counter and prepared a mug of tea for him. 'Here you go.' He handed the mug to Dean, who accepted with a grateful smile and took a sip.

The lines of fatigue in his face lessened somewhat, and he glanced at his wristwatch. 'I don't have much time; we're scheduled to visit Parvati's parents today, together with the kids, and I'd like to catch some sleep before then. I just wanted to bring you up to speed regarding the investigation into your sister's death and the absolute farce Dawlish and Roper are making of it.'

Ron prepared a mug of tea for himself and sat down opposite of Dean. 'How bad is it?'

'Very.' Dean took sip of tea, as if to fortify himself. 'I was part of the investigative team that went inside of _Stinchcombe Hall _as soon as Harry gave us the news. That was about as far as standard protocol went, Dawlish insisted on doing most of the work himself. He took only Proudfoot in with him, even though the Unspeakable somehow managed to get ahead of them and to examine Ginny's body. If he hadn't done that we wouldn't even have an estimation of time of death. Dawlish got furious about that "new fangled nonsense" and threw him out of the room.' He shook his head and took another sip of tea.

'The rest of us were left downstairs, cooling our heels. Eventually I pretended to be curious and wandered through the ground floor.' He let out a low whistle. 'Have you ever been there?'

Ron nodded. 'Yeah, at receptions. Harry and Daphne don't like the place much.'

Dean shook his head. 'I'm not surprised. It's ridiculously ostentatious. All that pomp is so unlike Harry, isn't it?' He didn't wait for Ron's answer. 'As far as I can tell, your sister used very little of the space available. There were a couple bathing suits in the changing room of the pool annexe, that's about the only personal things I could discover. The drawing room, the study and the library showed no sign she ever set her foot into them. It was different with the dining room, though.'

He shifted in his seat, his eyes cast on the table. 'Damn, this isn't an easy thing to tell you, Ron.'

He gave a mirthless chuckle. 'Out with it, Dean. I'm not a Victorian lady, but your boss. I doubt anything my sister has done will scandalise me; not after ten years in the Auror Department.'

'Right, good point.' Dean took another sip of tea. 'Well, the table was set for two, with the remains of a cold dinner on it. So we can assume she had a guest for dinner. A male guest.' He hesitated, bit his lips, and let out a sign. 'No use trying to sugarcoat it, Ron. You'll have to hear about it and somehow get the information to Harry. I found a used condom on the floor of the dining room. I put it into an evidence bag, tagged it into the evidence chain of custody and gave it to the Unspeakable without Dawlish noticing. The Unspeakable promised to conduct a magical DNA analysis.' He shrugged. 'I know that I should have handed the evidence to Dawlish, but you know what he thinks of the methods the Unspeakables have developed after the war. He probably would have thrown the evidence into the waste bin or vanished it on the spot, but he can't touch the Unspeakables, so I knew it would be safe.'

Ron's stomach dropped. So, he'd been right all along: Ginny had potentially hooked up with the wrong bloke. His breath hitched, and he turned his head away from Dean to blink away the sudden sting in his eyes. Merlin be praised that she at least hadn't suffered.

He took a sip of tea to wash away the lump in his throat. 'Good thinking, Dean. Let's hope we'll have a match for the bastard in our files. I'm sure that it'll come up in the trial, since it proves that Ginny was likely with someone after Daphne left. Roper will probably give you a hard time because you have theoretically violated protocol and made her and Dawlish look like the fools they are. But you can count on me, I will have your back and if needs be I'll take the hit on this.'

'I don't doubt that, Ron, and thanks,' Dean said and drained his mug. 'My gut tells me we won't find a match in our archive. The Department grapevine says Harry has put a private investigator on the trail of the perpetrator. If he can come up with a likely suspect, then we might get our match.' He stood up and let out a huge yawn. 'I've gotta go, or Parvati will have my hide for breakfast instead of bacon. Thanks for the tea.'

'You're welcome, and … thanks, Dean. You have no idea what that means to me.'

Dean gave him a wry smile. 'Don't mention it. I'd feel the same if it were Seamus. Besides that, Harry and Daphne are decent people, who have done more for our world than people recognise, they don't deserve what Roper and Dawlish are doing to them.'

With a last wave at Ron, he went out of the door and Apparated away.

_t.b.c._


	29. Chapter 29

_ **The Rectory, May 24th 2008** _

Ron's letter arrived during Sunday breakfast. Pigwidgeon had long since passed on to the eternal blue owl skies, but not before he managed to somehow reproduce. His son was just as small as Pig and was every bit as excitable. Right now, the tiny bird circled around the lamp of the breakfast room, giving happy hoots as he went.

Harry sighed and absently rubbed at his temple as if in pain. 'This kinda gives me deja-vu,' he muttered as he flicked his wand. 'Accio, Hulk.' The tiny owl gave a surprised squeak and zoomed into his hands.

Daphne giggled. 'I'll never understand by Merlin what got into Hermione when she named that tiny thing Hulk?'

Harry cast his wife a wry grin while he fumbled with the strings that tied the letter to the owl's leg. 'As I recall, it wasn't entirely her fault. I believe that you, Lisa, Fleur, and a few bottles of elven wine also played a large part in that, if my memory doesn't deceive me. The nefarious deed was done when we blokes came back, and the damned bird wouldn't listen to any other name.'

'I have no idea what you're talking about.' Daphne sniffed with feigned innocence.

'Of course not, you were plastered like a sailor. Ah, gotcha!' Harry had finally wrestled the letter from Hulk's leg, evaded the crust of toast Daphne threw at him with a practised twist to the side, and let go of the owl.

Hulk gave his feathers an indignant shake, glared balefully at Harry and then flew across to Daphne, before he took a sip of her pumpkin juice and nibbled on one of her toast crusts smeared with nutella.

Harry eyed her choice of breakfast food with a wary eye. 'Are you returning to kindergarten food, love?'

'It's the only food that stays down,' Daphne said with a grimace.

'I'm sorry.'

She snorted. 'What, for putting a potion in my cauldron?' She waggled an accusatory finger at him. 'No, buster, you're not. Now, what does Ron write?'

'You'll find out in another minute if you'll let me read the letter,' Harry said and unfolded the sheet of parchment.

She poked her tongue out at him, but left him to his reading without any more cheeky comments.

Harry read the letter, and had not even read half of it when his stomach turned into a hard rock, and the hair on his arms and the nape of his neck lifted. He bit his lips. So, Ron had been right all along: there had been an assassin behind all these accidents they had had. And this time they were after Daphne.

He cast a look from behind his letter at his wife, who patted Hulk and whispered silly things to the tiny owl. For the first time since Tuesday she had an almost carefree expression on her face, despite the axe which hovered over their heads. The paleness of her skin had given way to a healthy glow and her hair once more had life in it. His heart sank. He'd hate to see the smile fading from her lips when he had to tell her and give way to the lines of worry that seemed to been etched even deeper into her beautiful face ever since they got the news of Ginny's death.

He pressed his lips together. He'd be a fool if he cast Ron's warning into the wind. Thank Merlin Daphne wasn't allowed to leave the grounds of _The Rectory _right now. Thanks to their excellent wards she was safe here, and on her way to the courtroom she'd be surrounded by an Auror guard. That was about the only silver lining of their current situation.

He rubbed his face with the palm of his free hand and cast another look on the letter. Why now? Didn't they have enough on their plates already?

Ron seemed to think Lucius Malfoy was behind it, once again. After all, he'd left Azkaban not that long ago.

And yet … Would Malfoy be foolish enough to risk the freedom he'd just gained? Rumours said he was a broken shell of the former man he had been, so would he still be out for revenge?

Harry shook his head. No, Ron had been right when it came to the assassinations, but he was dead wrong about Lucius. There had been so many "accidents or incidents" over the years, and from what he could see not one of them could be linked to Lucius, so why should he be behind it this time? That made no sense.

And yet, Cyrus, Isabella and Tori had been killed by a perfidious assassination, and there were the threats Lucius had made right after he'd been sentenced to Azkaban. If Lucius wasn't the common denominator, then who was?

Again, he rubbed his face with the palm of his hand. He was overlooking something, he knew it was there, right below the surface of his consciousness. But what?

He let his eyes wander through the cosy breakfast room. Isabella's prized Everblooming Orchids were as beautiful as ever. The elves had opened the French doors to the patio, a balmy spring breeze wafted into the room, carrying the scent of the lilac bushes that were planted at the side of the house. No matter what happened, the serene atmosphere of _The Rectory _never failed to soothe him. As far as he could remember, there only had been one downright unpleasant evening he'd spent here, way back, when Daphne and he had just got married, and Cyrus had been furious at his daughter because he thought she was going to leave her new husband -.

He gasped and went straight in his chair. Cyrus! Cyrus and the hundreds of secrets he'd liked to hoard about everyone he met or thought it likely he would meet. What if he'd stumbled upon something dangerous without even realising it? What if the owner of that secret knew about Cyrus' obsession and decided to protect himself at all costs, even if that meant to get rid of Cyrus and his potential heirs?

His stomach squirmed, and he shoved his plate away.

Daphne looked up from feeding the owl. 'Is something wrong, honey?'

Harry shook his head and forced a smile on his lips. There was no way he was going to tell her about Ron's letter, at least not right away. She had enough on her plate to deal with right now, and for the time being she was safely tucked away at _The Rectory. _Although he'd better make sure she never got wind of him hiding something this big from her, or she'd make him sleep on the couch until their silver wedding anniversary. He suppressed a snort. 'No, it's just Ron not taking his forced leave of absence very well.'

Daphne gave him a thoughtful look. 'If you say so. Maybe one of these days you'll stop wrapping me in pink acromantula silk, honey. I'm pregnant, not breakable.'

That was yet to be determined. Damn, she knew him too well. 'I'm sorry, love. It's something I have to give some thought before I can talk about it, can you accept that?'

'If you say so.' Her voice sounded flat, and she returned to her horrible breakfast.

His stomach gave yet another squirm. Over the last couple of days Daphne had become rather sensitive and, well, to be honest, unreasonable. He'd expected the hormonal changes would lead to mood swings, after all he'd commiserated often enough with Bill, Justin and Ron through the pregnancies of their respective wives. Nothing, however, had prepared him for actually living with a pregnant witch deep in the clutches of the hormones.

Oh well, he'd make it up to her as soon as he'd finished reading Ron's letter. Thankfully, Daphne's bouts of bad humour never lasted too long.

_I'm sorry to have more bad news for you, _Ron wrote. _Someone sent an anonymous letter to your favourite head of department that added to the blackmail story she already knew from my mother. The letter also provided photographic evidence that you have been seeing Ginny whenever you were in the U.S.A._

Harry bit his lip. Daphne had told him that Ginny had sent her photos of them together each time after one of his trips to the U.S.A. Obviously another set of prints had found their way to Britain. He had to inform Anthony and Greco of that. Maybe that would give them another lead to chase down. He sighed and returned to the letter.

_A mutual friend stumbled over something interesting when he visited your humble adobe from the Potter line: a johnny full of male love cells. He sent it to the mysterious guys in the basement. If that PI of yours comes across a name of interest, he'd better make sure to get a DNA sample._

His breath caught, and his heartbeat quickened. They already suspected Williams had been with Ginny that night. If Greco could get a DNA sample of the man… Was this the breakthrough they had hoped for?

_t.b.c._


	30. Chapter 30

_ **Malfoy Manor, May 24th 2008** _

Lucius Malfoy contemplated his reflection in the mirror of his dressing room. The practice had become an unhealthy addiction ever since his release had been secured from Azkaban; it made him furious when he thought about all that time Potter and Greengrass had forced him to waste as he rotted in prison. He mourned at the sight his now dull eyes observed, he was nothing more than a wreck of a man, there was nothing left of his aristocratic looks, instead in front of his eyes stood a man mocking him with his own frailness.

The robes of black Acromantula silk, embroidered with rich gold thread, did nothing to hide his pale complexion and his thinning yellowish-grey hair. At least the expert cut hid his pot belly; Twillfit hadn't lost his touch with a scissor and needles during all these years they had locked him up like a dog.

He took a breath and squared his shoulders. No, he'd not go down that path; not today. He couldn't afford to show any weakness, he had to present himself as the figurehead of their gallant cause and take back the reins of power for what little time he had left.

His knees almost buckled as a burning pain raced from his heart into his left arm. His right hand grabbed his upper arm with a low, suppressed groan, and his face scrunched up in pain. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead, and his vision swam.

The attack seemed to go on forever. His ragged breaths filled the room.

A felt eternity later the pain lessened, ebbed away. Lucius straightened, loosened the grip on his upper arm, and frowned at the wrinkles his hand had left in the precious material.

He reached for his ebony cane that leaned against the wall, next to him. Once it had been a mere accessory, meant to distinguish him from the majority of the plain-dressed wizards out there who couldn't afford anything better. Nowadays he needed the damned stick to ensure that he did not to faceplant every time he ventured out of his rooms.

The cane housed his wand as it always had. He curled his fingers around it and drew it slowly from the holster's confines; it felt cold to his touch, like a stranger. A grimace crossed his features, it had been that way ever since he came back from that gods forsaken island. His lips curled into a mocking smile. Even his wand had deserted him. Was it because of the time his Lord had used it? And if so, why should that have made a difference? Shouldn't he have felt an even deeper connection to his wand then, given that his master had graced it with his powerful magic?

Whatever the reason, it was of no consequence, it still worked well enough for most everyday-spells, and he could bend it to his will when needed. He moved the wand across his person. The wrinkles in his sleeves smoothed out, his hair became fuller and had a silky sheen, and his skin appeared to have a healthy glow with fewer wrinkles.

He cast a last look at his image in the mirror. Yes, that would do.

He stepped out of his dressing room and walked down to the entrance hall. Draco was already waiting for him next to the huge fireplace that served as the primary Floo connection of Malfoy Manor.

He bowed his head. 'Father.'

Draco always showed him the respect he was due as the head of their house - whatever that was worth these days. Outside these walls it was currently worth squat, but that would change; ten years in Azkaban had been too long, other players had taken up where the Malfoys had left off, though not of their own will. Draco hadn't been the man to keep what was theirs. Merlin knew the boy was too squeamish to do what was absolutely necessary to keep the power he had cultivated.

That was another of his failures; he'd been too soft on the boy.

Draco stepped to the side and let him precede into the Floo. A dizzying journey later he stepped out into an elegant parlour.

His host held out a hand that allowed him to keep his footing. 'Welcome to Nott Hall, Lord Malfoy.' He let go of his hand and gave him a deep bow.

Everard Nott had taught his son well, he knew to respect his betters. Too bad he hadn't inherited his father's masculinity: with his narrow, stooped shoulders, soft features, and long, mouse-coloured locks he looked like a girl, and a rather plain one at that.

Behind him, the Floo flared, and Draco stepped out. It was Draco, not their host, who introduced him to the three other young men in the room, Cormac McLaggen, Zacharias Smith and Matthew Ingersoll.

'Ingersoll came over from the States to aid our cause,' Draco said as he introduced the young man. 'It has been … rather difficult to recruit here in Britain.'

'Damned Aurors have their eyes and ears everywhere,' Nott said.

Lucius gave a noncommittal nod to that, his face bland, even though the hairs on the nape of his neck rose. Something didn't add up here.

Nott led them to the dining room and installed him at the place of honour at the head of the table.

The meal was scrumptious; he wouldn't have expected anything less at Nott Hall. Yet, he wasn't able to do it justice. His stomach churned like the sea at the bottom of the cliffs during a storm. From behind his lowered eyelids he appraised Ingersoll, who sat next to his son on the right side of the table, while Draco and Nott brought him up to speed about the things they hadn't been able to speak about during visiting time whilst he had been a resident of Azkaban.

Their organisation was once again doing well, all things considered, although nowadays they were dabbling in businesses he'd have thought way below him in his day. Hired assassins and Muggle drugs - oh, how the mighty had fallen! However, they had a lifestyle to maintain, and gold was gold, even if it came from filthy Mudbloods.

A broad grin appeared on Draco's face. 'I bet you're delighted to hear this, Father. Someone has placed a contract on Potter's whore.'

A wave of cold rippled from his stomach through his body, like waves on the surface of a pond after you'd thrown a stone, followed by the familiar pain. There was a sudden movement in the corner of his eyes: Ingersoll jerked his head towards Draco. He didn't have time to dwell on that right now. The pain intensified, threatened to sweep over him completely. He forced his mind to think, Oh Merlin, he had raised an even bigger idiot than he had thought. Why was that fool grinning like a loon? Didn't he know he'd be back in Azkaban within a heartbeat if anything happened to Potter's wife? She was a Greengrass by birth, and the DMLE hadn't forgotten his threats against that family.

He clenched his teeth against the pain, and his hand gripped around the edge of the table until the knuckles stood out white. 'You fool,' he said with gritted teeth. 'Do you want me back in Azkaban? Get it off the market!'

The fool gaped at him like a freshly landed fish on dry ground.

'There is no way to pull the contract, Lord Malfoy. By now it's gone through at least five or six stages. It's going to be impossible to find out who is going to execute it before it is done, and we have no idea who has taken out the hit, given it was handled via an elf.' That was Nott's calm and respectful voice.

His eye caught another jerk from Ingersoll, although he did his best to hide it well. However, now was not the time for that, he'd deal with Ingersoll later.

By the ashes of the Dark Lord, what was he supposed to do now?

His cold fingers fumbled for his cane next to his chair. He got to his feet, with slow deliberate movements. Merlin give they didn't notice how heavy he leaned on his cane; he couldn't afford to seem weak in their eyes.

He walked to the Floo, as upright as always. Draco followed him.

As soon as he arrived at Malfoy Manor, he turned around and waited for the arrival of his son. The moment Draco stumbled out of the Floo, he raised his cane and gave him a blow to his head.

Draco's knees gave out below him, and he crashed to the ground, yet still conscious, as his groans betrayed. He cradled his head between his hands.

'You're a fool, Draco Malfoy. You've accepted a contract that will be my death sentence, and you've admitted an Auror into the heart of our organisation.'

The fool raised his eyes to him. 'Who are you talking about, Father?'

'Ingersoll, at least he calls himself that. He served you a fairy tale, you dimwit. That bastard is the spitting image of Dorcas Meadow. Her grandson, probably.' A wave of heat shot through his body; red spots appeared in front of his eyes. His foot kicked Draco right in the groin.

The fool snapped together like a pocket knife.

Lucius looked down at the cringing heap at his feet. The heat of fury faded away, all it left was the bitter taste of bile in his mouth and the certainty he would have to pay the price for Draco's shortsightedness.

'You're such a fool. Each time you discussed your plans with your friends, you blabbed them to an Auror.'

_t.b.c._


	31. Chapter 31

_ **The Rectory, June 2nd 2008** _

The sound of his shoes on the wooden floors seemed to echo like a death bell tolling in a cavernous room. Was today really the day of the start of Daphne's trial? Harry's stomach rolled, his heart beat an erratic rhythm against his ribcage, and he pressed his clammy hands against the sides of his trousers as he sat down at the breakfast table. The scent of Mipsy's delicious food didn't help to calm his anxiety, it only heightened it and made him nauseous. He swallowed hard and looked at his wife. Had she noticed how horrible he felt?

Daphne was pale, even under her carefully applied make-up, and the stony public face she used to hide her strong emotions was already set in place. Despite that, there was a pugnacious gleam in her eyes, reinforced by her selection of clothes for today: plain dark blue business robes over a sharp pant suit with a crisp white blouse, combined with her four inch shiny black high heels, pointed enough to be used as a weapon to kill, if necessary.

The rhythm of his heartbeat evened out somewhat, and a small smile crept on his lips. He'd almost underestimated her for the first time in a long time, Daphne was a fighter, he should have known that, and it was his duty to support her in every way he could. He inhaled and squared his shoulders. He wouldn't be of much use to her if he panicked, he needed to be strong for her, no matter how much he wanted to snatch her up, cradle her to his chest and take her away to a secure place.

He chanced a short glance at Mipsy from under lowered eyelids, praying that Daphne didn't notice, the less she knew about his contingency plan if everything went pear shaped the better for them all. Mipsy stood close to Daphne, as he had instructed her the previous night when Daphne was already sound asleep; the new mum-to-be tired easily these days.

Daphne's short stay in the Ministry's holding cell had come with an interesting piece of information: the Ministry yet had to put up wards against house elf Apparition, as with everyone else in the magical world they didn't give a second thought as to what the small creatures were capable of; Mipsy had told him she'd been free to pop anywhere she liked. His whole plan depended on that fact. Mipsy would stay by Daphne's side, invisible, as a good house elf should be, and if the unthinkable happened and the panel of judges found Daphne guilty, she'd grab her and pop her away to safety.

He shook his head; it was unbelievable that no Death Eater had come up with this easy solution for staging a break out during their trials ten years ago. Then again, they were Death Eaters, and they never would've thought of relying on the help of a lowly elf.

Running away, however, was the option of last resort, if everything else failed. Until then, he would pin his hopes on the rule of law, even if the foundations were still fragile in the reborn magical state. Part of him wanted time to speed up, so their ordeal was over and so that they knew their fate. There were still too many what ifs and unanswered questions for him to have confidence that justice would be served at the end of this ordeal.

The investigation of Ginny's finances was only about half finished, and they were still waiting for the complete autopsy report. On the positive side of the ledger, Greco had found out that Williams' flat belonged to a British company which seemed to be controlled by a company from the U.S.A. Greco's contact in the U.S.A. was still investigating this angle. The preliminary autopsy report had revealed that Ginny's head injury wasn't the cause of her death, frustratingly the real cause had not yet been determined. At least, what they did have would poke another hole in Roper's claim that Daphne had killed Ginny by blasting her into the wall and cracking her skull. There was still hope Ginny had taken an accidental overdose of Pain Killing Potions and died because of that, maybe that death would make it easier to bear for the Weasley family.

The result of the magical DNA analysis of the condom Dean had found in Ginny's dining room also had not yet got back to them. He'd shared that bit of information with Anthony, Greco, and Daphne. They all agreed that Williams most likely had been Ginny's dinner guest, and among the four of them they'd come up with a plan that involved Raymond, Williams, a talk about a pay rise and a water bottle and a glass. Williams had provided them with samples of his fingerprints and his DNA, and it had never occurred to him they had trapped him. If the little love cells in the condom matched with his DNA, the ever-tanned surfer boy had a lot to answer for, he -.

'Harry? Were you listening to what I said?'

Daphne's hand on his arm startled him out of the obsessive chain of thought. He smiled down at his wife and gave her a small peck. 'Sorry, I was woolgathering. What did I miss?'

'We're meeting Anthony in the antechamber of Kingsley's office and go down to the courtroom together with him, aren't we?'

'Yeah, Kingsley offered it the other day, so we don't have to fight our way through the Atrium that probably will be packed with press and wizards and witches ready to tear you apart.'

She bit her lip. 'You don't think the article on Saturday worked?'

'We can only hope that it had some effect,' he said with a sigh. 'McLean did an admirable job, I'm still baffled as to how he persuaded the editor of _Witch __Weekly _to publish a whole edition about the two of us from the day we married until the promotional party.'

Daphne reached for a slice of toast. At his words, a reluctant smile appeared on her lips. 'I'd say it had a lot to do with our friends giving inside statements and providing photos from their private albums.' She put the slice of toast on her plate, but didn't touch it. 'No journalist worth their salt would have skipped an opportunity like that.'

He agreed with a small chuckle, then motioned with his hand towards her plate. 'Please eat something! You'll need your strength today.'

That got him a huff and a small glare. 'Stop fussing, honey. And for the record, you're no better.' She gave a pointed look at his still empty plate and untouched cup of tea.

'I can't, it probably won't stay down.'

'Same here.'

'Mipsy bes packing chocolate digestives for mistress to nibble on if mistress bes faint.' The elf's voice piped up from behind Daphne's chair.

Daphne turned around and gave the small creature a warm smile. 'Thank you, Mipsy, that is very thoughtful of you. Please, prepare some for Master Harry to take with him as well.'

Harry rolled his eyes at her, but didn't object, and when not even a minute later a small package of chocolate digestives appeared beside his plate, he pocketed them without a comment.

They took miniscule sips of tea until it was time to leave. Harry rose and offered Daphne his hand. She took it, her hand as clammy and cold as his, she rose, and they walked to the Floo in the living room. In front of the fireplace they stopped and looked at each other. For the first time that morning there was a flicker of fear in Daphne's eyes.

He pulled her towards him and held her close in an overwhelming need to protect her. The way she clung to him told him everything about her anxiety.

They stood like that for a long moment.

He whispered into her hair, 'Whatever happens, know that I love you and I will be forever at your side.' She clung to him fiercely. Harry eventually asked, 'Are you ready, love?' his heart in his throat, and brushed a strand of her hair out of her face with his fingertips as he released her.

She took a deep breath. 'As ready as I'll ever be.'

He took a handful of Floo Powder and tossed it into the fire. Hand in hand they stepped into the flames and whirled their way through the labyrinth of interconnected fireplaces to the one in the antechamber of Kingsley's office in the Ministry of Magic.

Kingsley was nowhere to be seen - as Minister of Magic he had to keep a neutral stance in public - but Anthony was already waiting for them, together with Dean and Seamus, who were Daphne's Auror guard to make sure she wouldn't escape. They exchanged short greetings, and then Harry and Anthony took Daphne between them and led her to the elevators, while Dean and Seamus brought up the rear.

They met only few people on the first floor who all gave them curious and often enough disdainful looks. That changed, however, as the golden grilles of the elevator clanged opened on level ten.

The corridor in front of the courtrooms was packed with people, reporters from newspapers and magazines from all over the world, sensationalist wizards and witches who all had come in the hope to catch a seat in the trial of the wife of the famous Harry Potter for the murder of the popular Quidditch star Ginny Weasley, and a huge number of curious Ministry employees who all had found an excuse to be here and not at their workplaces.

An uproar went through the crowd as soon as they caught sight of Daphne, and they surged forward forward as a single entity.

Dean and Seamus moved in front of them, wands raised. The no-nonsense look on their faces was enough to make the crazed mob in front of them reconsider their current actions, the mass seemed to flex around them, giving them room to pass.

It didn't, however, silence them, questions rolled out of the mass of people.

'Mrs Potter, why did you -'

'Harry, will you -'

'Mr Goldstein, what tactic will the defence choose to employ today?'

They ignored the questions of the press and walked on. The comments of the wizarding public were harder to ignore.

'Go to hell, bitch!'

'Azkaban is too good for you!'

Harry gritted his teeth. His hand itched to pull his wand and hex the bloody lot into oblivion. Beside him, Daphne trembled, and he put his arm around her shoulder and held her close.

'We believe you, Daphne!'

'Stay strong!'

The supporting voices were few and in-between, and were soon drowned out by the angry voices of the majority. Harry exchanged a short look with his wife. McLean's work had paid off, a small part of the wizarding public had been drawn to Daphne's side. A miniscule smile appeared on Daphne's face, and she raised her hand to thank her few supporters in the room.

Harry let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when they reached a quiet area in front of courtroom ten that had been warded off as a waiting area for Daphne, Anthony, and him, and for the Weasleys and the witnesses Roper had summoned to present her case against Daphne. He exchanged a short nod with McLean, who sat on the wooden bench next to the door of the courtroom and looked as if he'd rather be on the other side of the world right now.

The Weasley clan arrived shortly after them, in time with Justin and Lisa. Molly leaned on Arthur's arm like an old woman and ignored them, while Arthur gave them a nod in greeting. The Weasley children and their spouses, however, gravitated around Daphne and greeted her with hugs, much to the amazement of the crowd behind the wards, as the increasing noise level and the whooshing sound of camera flashes going off betrayed.

Roper and Dawlish were the last to appear. The head of the D.M.L.E. made a grandstanding entrance, sweeping into the room. She didn't even spare them a glance. Instead, she made a big show of greeting Molly and Arthur and fussing over a weeping Molly. The press lapped it up and took photo after photo.

'Propaganda photos for the D.M.L.E. in tomorrow's _Prophet,' _Anthony said under his breath.

Harry agreed and answered with a curt nod; the palms of his hands were moist, and his heart hammered in his chest. Right now, he couldn't care less about Roper's greed for good press. He stared at the tall doors of the courtroom. What was awaiting them there?

At last, the doors opened and the apprehensive waiting came to an end.

Roper led Molly into the courtroom, and Dawlish followed with Arthur by his side. While Roper had put an arm around Molly in a public gesture of solicitude, and Molly leaned on her heavily, Arthur kept a stiff distance between himself and Dawlish.

Harry let out a deep breath, then offered Daphne his arm. Together with Anthony they entered the courtroom, the Weasley children and their partners along with Justin and Lisa close behind them.

In the courtroom, Roper already had sat down at the prosecutors table and was arranging her parchments. Molly and Arthur had sat down in the front row behind her. Dawlish sat next to Arthur.

Harry escorted Daphne to what was theoretically the dock - instead it was a box reserved for the accused next to Anthony, and opposite Roper's position. He pulled her in his arms, gave her a lingering kiss on the forehead, and then let go and held the chair out for her.

Every eye and camera in the room was on them.

Daphne sat down; Harry bent towards her and whispered, 'I love you,' into her ear. She raised her head and gave him a small smile. 'Love you, too.' The words were almost drowned out by the ruckus in the room.

On his way to the front row behind Daphne's seat his eyes swerved across the courtroom. As expected, the tiers were crammed with press and curious onlookers. If he had his way, the sensationalist scum would be rather disappointed at the end of the trial. He heaved a big sigh; Merlin give Anthony could tear Roper's case apart. Yet, there was still the problem with the panel of judges -.

Lisa and Justin had held a place for him between them in the front row. Behind them, Bill, Fleur, Ron and Hermione had taken their seats. Their support warmed his heart; together, the seven of them formed a small section of resistance against the overwhelming majority in the courtroom who didn't bother to mask their hostility against Daphne.

George and Angelina, Percy and Audrey, and Charlie took the free seats in the first two rows behind the seat of the accused.

Molly Weasley didn't even bother to mask her fury about that, she sent death glares at her five surviving sons, calculated to make them quiver in their shoes. They were unimpressed, instead they folded their arms in front of their chests and glared back.

Harry turned around and looked at Bill behind him. 'Please don't alienate yourself from your parents on Daphne's and my behalf,' he said in a low voice, mindful of the many curious ears close to them.

Bill put a hand on his shoulder and leaned forward. 'Mum went beyond the pale with her accusations against Daphne. Without her idiotic accusations, there wouldn't be a trial today. You know that as well as we do, Harry, so don't even try to find excuses for her. She's in for a rude awakening during this trial, Ginny wasn't an unblemished model of perfection, I know you know exactly what I'm talking about.'

He sighed and nodded; even though the investigation of Zabini's financial background were still ongoing, Bill, Greco and the team of Goblins from Gringotts had found enough evidence to prove that Zabini used his business to laundry money for his mob family. Quite a lot of the money had found its way into Ginny's coffers, and the evidence indicated that she'd known of Zabini's illegal business deals.

Greco had yet to talk to the slippery bastard. Although, after some discussion, they had decided that talking to him outside of the trial might prove unwise, there was no point tipping their hand to the prosecution when they didn't have to. Zabini would expect, however, to be summoned as a witness to the trial, either for the prosecution or for the defense, if only to give testimony about Ginny's last days, he couldn't refuse the summons to appear. Anthony for one was looking forward to confronting him as he sat in the witness box.

The opening of a door at the top of the courtroom yanked Harry out of his thoughts. He stood up with everyone else and watched as the panel of judges filed into the courtroom, once again his heart leapt in his throat and his hands became moist. These were the women and men who held Daphne's and his lives in their hands - and the life of their unborn child. Would they be fair judges who looked at the evidence presented by both sides with an impartial eye? Or would they follow Roper's bidding and send Daphne to Azkaban on the flimsy evidence the D.M.L.E. had arrayed against her? Only time would tell.

He looked at the seven women and men in the judge's bench. Anthony had been relieved when Neville told them the names of the selected judges. It wasn't as bad as they had expected it would be in the beginning.

They had to thank Kingsley for that.

At first, Geoffrey Roper had pulled his strings and pointed out that the members of Daphne's Neutral Faction and those of Harry's Progressive Faction weren't eligible for the panel of judges because of a possible conflict of interest, and had presented the Wizengamot with a list of candidates made up of his supporters. What he hadn't counted on, however, was Kingsley stepping in. Neville had almost choked on his laughter when he described Geoffrey Roper's sour face to them as the Minister for Magic presented his own list of possible candidates to the Wizengamot that contained the names of Ministry employees on the Wizengamot, hand-picked by Kingsley himself.

'_I'm convinced you will not argue the neutrality of the Ministry, ladies and gentlemen,'_ Kingsley had addressed the Wizengamot, that had Geoffrey Roper to adjust his list to make his ploy less obvious. Instead of candidates in his pocket, he'd added a few candidates who, while still conservative Purebloods, were known for their level heads and fair minds, like William Orphington or Gordon Ogden. In the end, only two of Roper's puppets made it on the panel, Zacharias Smith and Cornelius Warrington. On the downside, Kingsley also got only two of his candidates in, Susan Bones and Padma Shafiq, neé Patil. The other three, Orphington, Ogden and Alexander Carmichael, were wild cards.

Harry watched the judges taking their seats. They had elected Susan Bones as presiding judge. That was good, Susan was as incorruptible as her late aunt, she had a spine of steel and wouldn't bow to pressure from Geoffrey Roper's puppets among the judges, nor from the angry masses in the courtroom, she'd make sure that procedure was followed and that Daphne's rights weren't trampled on in the process.

He eyeballed each member of the jury as they sat there waiting for Susan to call the court to session. _'This is much better than I thought it would be in the beginning. Instead of proving Daphne's innocence, we only need to convince one judge that Daphne is innocent to ensure a hung jury,'_ Anthony had said. His explanation had taken them a bit to understand, but essentially from what Harry could grasp a hung jury meant that the judges couldn't get to an unanimous vote. In that case, Anthony had explained, the jury would be disbanded, and the Wizengamot had to vote on the decision if the case presented by the prosecution compared to the case presented by the defense had a high probability to lead to a guilty verdict by another jury. Only if that vote passed, a new jury would be selected for a second trial.

Anthony hoped to draw at least one judge on the side of the defense by showing the many glaring errors and gaps of the prosecution case, so that the necessary Wizengamot vote would end in dismissing another trial. There was a high likelihood of that latter outcome, as together the Neutral Faction, the Progressive Faction and the Light Faction held most of the seats on the Wizengamot.

However, Geoffrey Roper knew that, too. They could only speculate about the means he and his puppets on the panel of judges would use to "persuade" the other judges to follow their lead and hope the other judges would be strong enough to resist that pressure. Harry suppressed a deep sigh, their best bet to get Daphne out of this still was to find the real murderer so that even Geoffrey Roper's puppets had no other choice than a "not guilty" verdict.

He sat down and put his moist hands flat on his thighs. Merlin, how he hated to be reduced to a powerless spectator! He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He needed to get a grip on himself. He was here to show his support for his wife, and to give last-minute instructions via his Patronus to Greco, who was still working with the Goblins today, in case something unexpected came up in Roper's case; this was not the time or place to throw a pity-party for himself.

Susan banged the gavel. 'The trial of Magical Britain against Daphne Isabella Potter is hereby opened.'

Cornelius Warrington gave a slight sneer into her direction. Was he counting on being able to bully her into submission? Well, Susan probably was their most likely bet to resist Warrington's means of "persuasion". She had earned herself the reputation of being as tough as nails, she wouldn't take any bullshit from a Pureblood male with a superiority complex. If Warrington wasn't careful, he'd find himself without essential body parts when he came out of the jury room.

Susan nodded to the clerk in the seat below her. 'Please, read the charges against the accused.'

The clerk stood up and unrolled a sheet of parchment.

His small moment of amusement extinguished, Harry's heart jumped into his throat.

The fight for Daphne's freedom had begun.

_t.b.c._


	32. Chapter 32

_ **Ministry of Magic, June 2nd 2008** _

A hush fell over the crowded courtroom as the clerk read the charges against Daphne. When he ended, Susan motioned to Eugenia Roper to present the case of the prosecution.

Roper stood up and gave a respectful bow to the panel of judges. 'Your Honours, during the presentation of our evidence the prosecution will prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that Daphne Potter killed Ginevra Weasley in cold blood, motivated by a bout of petty jealousy. It is to that point that we bring to the court's attention that ten years ago, the accused, in conspiracy with her father, blackmailed her husband, Harry James Potter, also known as the Saviour of the Wizarding World among many appellations, into marrying her. Furthermore, neither the late Cyrus Greengrass, nor the accused herself cared or showed any remorse to this day, that in doing so they trapped the Saviour of the Wizarding world into a loveless existence when he was already deeply in love with the victim. It is also well known that he, Harry James Potter, had planned on proposing in a not too distant future. It is therefore not surprising that his marriage to the accused, a marriage based on such a despicable act, was unhappy and is also childless because of the accused's refusal to bear the children of her husband, even though she knew that a family of his own was all he ever longed for.'

A hot wave of indignation shot through Harry's body. Everything in him screamed to blast the woman through the walls of the courtroom. How did she dare to use their unintentional childlessness against Daphne?

He glanced at his wife; from his vantage point only her rigid back was visible to him. He didn't need to see her face, however, to know that inside she would be hurting. Whenever the matter of their childlessness came up, she lived through the horrible loss of their first baby once again, and the painful years of that slowly diminishing hope of children which had followed. Even though she hid her feelings behind the stony mask she presented to the world, he knew what those words cost her. The need to comfort her became overwhelming, and his hand twitched to reach out for her. He stopped himself, his hand fell limp in his lap; he couldn't reach her, anyway.

Hidden by the folds of his robes, he curled his fingers into fists; his nails dug into his palms, sending a sharp pain up his arm and preventing himself from jumping up and throttling the bitch with his bare hands. Anthony had warned him of any public outburst of anger against Eugenia Roper. _'It's what she's counting on, Harry,'_ he had said. _'You'd seem defiant, which would lend credence to her allegations. Better to ignore her.' _Still, he couldn't help himself and flashed a glare at Roper.

'However, as we all know, true love cannot be suppressed so easily.' Roper gave Harry a pointed look that also held a great deal of smugness, and each head in the courtroom turned to him.

Harry let out the breath he was holding and his fists uncurled. Damn that bitch, he'd almost fallen into the trap of which Anthony had warned him.

Loud and outraged whispers ran through the courtroom at Roper's words, and she paused, a small smirk around her lips. There was no doubt the uproar her words had caused satisfied her.

Susan banged her gavel. 'Quiet!'

Harry employed the relaxation exercises Daphne had shown him so long ago and schooled his face into a bland mask. At Roper's last words he even sent a faint sneer into her direction and crossed his legs to mimic a relaxed posture.

That didn't faze Roper. 'In point of fact, the lovers refused to be separated, they continued their loving relationship in secret and met at every opportunity they got.' She spun, her robes whirling around her. 'That woman -' she pointed a bony index finger with a long, red-painted and pointed fingernail at Daphne, '- that woman, supported by her father, refused to give the Saviour of the Wizarding world the freedom he so obviously longed for and deserved. But that is not where things ended. Cyrus Greengrass died two years ago, and our Saviour was no longer beholden to the promise Cyrus Greengrass had blackmailed out of him. The lovers waited until Ginevra Weasley's contract with her team in the U.S.A. came to an end, then Ginevra Weasley moved back to their home country and into the ancestral Potter family seat. Our Saviour informed his wife he wanted a divorce to marry his true love. Daphne Potter, however, wasn't one who was inclined to let go of what she considered hers. Instead, she plotted a despicable deed and murdered Ginevra Weasley by the use of a Blasting Hex, slamming our Saviour's love into the wall, extinguishing her life, all to keep her grasp and control of our Saviour.'

She paused for effect, left the box of the prosecution and walked towards a small table next to the seat of the court clerk where the pieces of evidence the prosecution would present were laid out.

Justin bent his head towards Harry. 'She's laying it on rather thick, isn't she? I would have thought you are the last man in the world to be blackmailed by anyone, least of all Cyrus. That man loved you like his own flesh and blood, anyone with eyes could see that. Besides, it was obvious right from the beginning that Daphne adored you, and you fell for her hard and fast, too.'

Harry jolted, he hadn't been close friends with Justin and Lisa when the events that led to his and Daphne's marriage occurred, and even though their friends were aware they had an arranged marriage, they'd never talked about that later. Their friends would be in for some nasty surprises during this trial. He acknowledged Justin's words with a faint smile while his eyes followed Roper.

Roper picked up a sheet of parchment from the table and held it up. 'Your Honors, the prosecution submits piece of evidence number P one: the rental contract between one Harry Potter and one Ginevra Weasley. For the record, I would like it noted that The Saviour of the Wizarding World is the owner of _Stinchcombe Hall_ in Kent, the ancestral seat of the Potter family. The house has been featured in many newspaper articles and is a landmark of magical Britain as well as of the United Kingdom: a house fit for the Queen of England. Houses like this are rented out for at least seventy-thousand Muggle pounds, which amounts to about seven hundred Galleons, _per week.'_

A gasp went through the courtroom at the outrageous weekly rent that was much more than most wizards made in a year.

Roper tapped against the contract with one immaculately manicured fingernail. 'The Saviour of Magical Britain, however, wanted to provide for his love even better than for his wife. Well aware he had to at least have some official documentation he made a rental contract to throw his wife off scent. He went through the motions, but charged only the modest sum of _seven_ Galleons a weekfrom Ginevra Weasley. You can imagine what impact that had on Daphne Potter when she found out.'

Harry blinked. Wait. What? This was the largest load of Gryffin shit he'd ever heard! There was no way the Goblins of Gringotts' real estate department who managed _Stinchcombe Hall _for him and Daphne would have rented out the house for such a paltry sum - or that they would have agreed to that. Ginny might have been his girlfriend a long time ago, but if she wanted to live like a queen, she'd have to pay for that privilege. The upkeep of that nightmare of a house cost them a fortune each year, much more than they made with renting out the draughty barn. At least that was what Daphne said, she would know, after all she was the one who managed their private holdings.

Anthony bent towards Daphne and asked her something in a low voice. Daphne shook her head and replied in an equally low voice, and Anthony cleared his throat and stood up just as Roper put the contract back on the table and was about to pick up the next piece of evidence.

'The defense has questions pertaining to the rental contract.'

That got him a glare from Roper, however, any objections she might have raised were cut off by Susan.

'Go ahead, Mr Goldstein.'

Anthony looked at Roper. 'Did Mr Potter sign the contract himself?'

Roper picked up the contract once again and looked at the signature at the bottom of the contract and shook her head. 'No, he didn't.'

'Who signed the contract?'

The glare Roper gave Anthony could have turned stone into lava. 'Someone named Axeclaw,' she gritted out between clenched teeth.

Anthony wasn't deterred by that. 'Did Axeclaw sign the contract in his own name?'

'No, he signed as representative of Mr Potter.'

'And?' Anthony pushed again.

'And Mrs Potter,' Roper ground out.

Anthony turned back to Susan. 'Your Honour, the defence knows that the rent shown in this contract -' he motioned to the piece of parchment in Roper's hand, '- is not the rent the parties the contract applies to have agreed on. For that reason the defence asks to hear Axeclaw to find out if really a rent of seven Galleons a week has been negotiated between Mr Potter and Ms Weasley, as the prosecution claims.'

'Objection!' Roper shouted. She also turned to Susan. 'Your Honour, this will prolong the trial unnecessarily. The defence doesn't have a leg to stand on with this inane questioning regarding the presented contract, they only want to confuse the panel of judges with false claims and further obfuscate the truth.'

'Objection overruled,' Susan said. Her bland face didn't give her thoughts away. 'I don't believe that there is something like "unnecessarily prolonging" when it comes to finding out the truth in a criminal trial that has the potential to send someone to Azkaban for life in case of a guilty verdict, Madam Roper.' She gave a nod to the clerk. 'Please, send out a Patronus and summon Axeclaw to give his testimony.'

A second later a silvery dove flew through the courtroom, and not even five minutes later the doors opened and a vaguely familiar wizened Goblin in a three-piece-suit of finest wool and sporting one of the thickest fob chains Harry had ever seen marched into the room. He stopped in front of Susan.

'Axeclaw. What do you want, witch?' His voice was as deep and rough as the bark of a German shepherd dog.

If Susan was irritated by Axclaw's attitude, she didn't let on. 'You've been summoned to this trial to give evidence about the rent you negotiated for your client, Mr Harry Potter, with Ms Ginevra Weasley for _Stinchcombe Hall._Please, take a seat in the witness box.'

Axeclaw grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, but did as he was asked.

Susan nodded to Anthony. 'Your witness, Mr Goldstein.'

Anthony gave the Goblin a polite nod in greeting. 'Axeclaw, in which way are you connected to Mr Potter?'

'I manage Mr Potter's private real estate.'

'In that line of work you are also responsible for negotiations with possible clients?'

'Yes, I am.'

'Were you responsible for the negotiations with one Ms Ginevra Weasley relating to _Stinchcombe Hall?'_

'Yes.'

'How were the instructions Mr Potter gave you in regard to the amount of rent he demanded from Ms Weasley?'

'I never talked to Mr Potter about that.'

Indignant murmurs flared up in the courtroom and died down the moment Susan glared at the audience.

Anthony's brows shot up. 'Excuse me, Axeclaw, are you trying to tell me that you went into negotiations with Ms Weasley without even asking your client about something as important as the amount of rent?'

'Of course not, wizard. Gringotts doesn't deliver sloppy work.'

'Then, with whom did you talk about these matters?'

Harry leaned back in his seat and bit on the insides of his cheeks to prevent a huge grin from sprawling over his face. Eugenia Roper was in for the first nasty surprise of the trial.

'I talked to Mrs Potter about the main stipulations of the next contract.'

This time Susan had to employ her gavel several times before the courtroom quietened down.

'Isn't that rather unusual?' Anthony asked.

Axeclaw shook his head. 'For the Potters, no. They have a clear division of tasks when it comes to their estates, as I know from talks to my colleagues who are also dealing with the Potter and Greengrass estates. Mr Potter manages Crystal Fairy Beauty Products, regardless whether Mrs Potter's share of the company is also affected, and without having to ask for her consent, while Mrs Potter manages their private holdings on her own authority, regardless whether they belong to her personally or to Mr Potter.'

'When did you talk to Mrs Potter about the amount of rent to charge for _Stinchcombe Hall?'_

'That would have been at the beginning of the year. Mrs Potter and I usually meet once a year to evaluate the amount of rents and discuss any changes to conditions and what repairs are needed at various properties.'

'Did you inform Mr Potter or Mrs Potter about the negotiations with Ms Weasley?'

Axeclaw looked offended. 'Of course not. The Potters don't want to be bothered with such trifles. They are informed about new tenants in my monthly reports, which are sent directly to Mrs Potter. The information about the contract with Ms Weasley is included in my report for May, which is due in another week.'

'Did Mrs Potter tell you to charge a rent of seven Galleons per week for _Stinchcombe Hall_?'

A visible jolt went through the Goblin, and he was near growling when he responded, 'Of course not. Mrs Potter knows what she is doing, her knowledge of business matters is exceptional for a wand-wielder. She never would have agreed to throwing away a gem like _Stinchcombe Hall _for a paltry sum that doesn't even cover the Council Tax her husband has to pay for that place each year.'

Anthony permitted himself a small smile. 'I thought as much. What stipulations regarding the rent of _Stinchcombe Hall_ did Mrs Potter set in place?'

The goblin gave a predatory grin. 'Simply to get as much rent as possible, but a minimum of six hundred Galleons a week. I am sure that she would have been happy that I managed to get Ms Weasley to agree to a rent of seven hundred Galleons per week.'

Again, the questioning was interrupted by the loud murmurings of the spectators.

Anthony waited until the noise had quietened down, walked over to the small table that held the pieces of evidence, picked up the contract and held it up.

'Then tell me, Axeclaw, why did you put a rent of only _seven_ Galleons _per year _into the contract?'

The Goblin gasped. He pointed towards the contract. 'If I may?'

Anthony held the contract out to him; Axeclaw almost snatched it out of his hands, his eyes skimming across it as he read the contract, then inexplicably he raised it to his nose and sniffed the parchment. His eyes contracted into flinty hard orbs, he shot bolt upright in his seat and waved his hand over the parchment.

The parchment glowed red.

'What are you doing there?' Roper screeched 'Your honors the defence's witness is tampering with evidence!'

Before Susan could answer Roper, Axeclaw turned to her, his face as red as the parchment, and his teeth bared. 'Shut up, witch! I am tampering with nothing, I simply evoked the Goblin Security Magic, magic we put on every contract made by us, so that we can detect tampering. This contract -' he waved the contract in his hand at her, his face contorted with disgust '- has been manipulated after it has been signed by Ms Weasley and me.'

'What?' a voice in the audience shouted, followed by a medley of wizards and witches who also uttered their disbelief in varying degrees of politeness.

'Quiet!' Susan shouted and banged her gavel. It took a number of repeats until order was restored. She glared at the offenders. 'The next member of the gallery who decides that they have a right to have their voice heard by all and sundry will be removed from the courtroom and held in contempt!'

'Is it possible to find out who manipulated the contract, Axeclaw?' Anthony asked into the tense silence that followed Susan's threat.

The Goblin waved his hand over the parchment once more. Nothing happened, and he shook his head. 'Whoever did this masked their magical signature very well, however, with considerable effort and expense we might be able to determine who it was, the emphasis on might!.'

'Thank you for your time, Axeclaw,' Anthony said. 'I don't have any more questions.' He turned to Roper and made a sweeping gesture at the goblin. 'Your witness, Madam Roper.'

Roper looked as if she had swallowed a toad. 'I don't have any more questions, either, your honor.'

Susan also thanked Axeclaw for his time and then dismissed the witness.

Harry let out a pent up breath. There was no doubt that this exchange had gone to the defence. For the first time that morning something like hope glowed in ashes that was his chest. If Anthony continued like that, if Roper made another blunder… If the panel of judges did the job they'd been elected for right…

He scrutinised the seven judges on their bench. It all came down to them. How had they taken the dismantling of Roper's first piece of evidence?

It was hard to tell; Orphington, Ogden, and Carmichael all had neutral expressions that didn't give their thoughts away at all, a similar expression also adorned Susan Bones' face, although her handling of the trial so far confirmed their expectation that she was at least determined to give Daphne a fair trial.

Zacharias Smith dozed in his seat; had he even noticed anything that had happened in the last twenty minutes?

Warrington, on the other hand, glared at Anthony who had his back turned to the panel of judges while he had a quiet conference with Daphne during the small break in proceedings before Susan asked Roper to continue her case. Oh well, they'd known right from the beginning that he was likely doing Geoffrey Roper's bidding. However, if Anthony kept on like this, Warrington's task would be considerably more difficult.

As his eyes met Padma's, she gave an imperceptible eyeroll at Eugenia Roper. The embers in his heart became brighter again. Padma, at least, seemed to see through Roper's shenanigans. However, would she be strong enough to stay true to her own convictions in the face of the pressure Cornelius Warrington would likely throw her way, backed by Zacharias Smith. Without any shadow of a doubt they would subject her and her co-judges to subtle and probably not-so-subtle intimidation as soon as the door to the judge's room closed behind them.

Susan's voice yanked him out of his thoughts. 'Please continue, Madam Roper.'

Roper gave a miniscule start and shifted through her papers once again.'Yes, of course, Your Honour.' She gave a fleeting glance to the table that held the prosecution's pieces of evidence. There was another sheet of parchment, the logo of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products visible at the top even from Harry's place.

Harry furrowed his brows. That sheet of parchment looked like one of their employment contracts for the magical part of the company. What was Roper scheming now?

For a moment, it looked as if Roper was about to pick up the parchment and introduce it to the trial. Her hand stopped, however, at the sound of a cleared throat and a slight warning shake of the head from Geoffrey Roper who sat in the second row right behind Dawlish. Harry watched, his narrowed eyes flicking between the two Roper siblings, as she overtly changed tact and turned towards McLean.

Harry's stomach lurched and he almost let out a whistle. Had Roper somehow got hold of Ginny's contract and planned on using a similar line of reasoning like she'd used with the rental contract to make it appear he had set up Ginny as his mistress? He wouldn't have put it past her, especially since her brother obviously was in on the scheme, too, going by the short exchange they'd had. There was very little Geoffrey Roper wouldn't do if it helped him achieve his goals.

Well, it seemed Anthony and Axeclaw had spoiled his plans - at least this time. However, it was a clear reminder they had to watch each of their steps and be prepared for anything.

Roper seemed to have come to a decision. She bit her lower lip and then squared her shoulders. 'The prosecution calls Mr. Angus McLean into the witness box.'

McLean stood up and walked to the witness box. He was pale, and there was a faint gleam of sweat on his face. He sat down; Susan cautioned him about his duties as a witness and then motioned to Roper to begin the questioning.

'Mr McLean, you work for Crystal Fairy Beauty Products, the company that is owned by the accused?'

'Objection,' Anthony said. 'It is a well known and indisputable fact that Mrs Potter only owns only half of the company, Your Honour.'

Roper acknowledged Anthony's objection with a slight inclination of her head in his direction and narrowed hate-filled eyes. 'Let me rephrase my question then. Mr McLean, you work for Crystal Fairy Beauty Products, the company that is _co__-owned_ by the accused?'

'Yes, I do,' McLean said.

'Will you please outline your field of duty to the court, Mr McLean?'

McLean relaxed in his seat, it was obvious he felt on safe ground again. 'I am the director of the Department of Magical Public Relations and Advertisement. As such, I have to coordinate between the management and the international press and to plan and supervise the advertisement campaigns of the company, in close cooperation with the management.'

'What was the last advertisement campaign the company ran?'

'That would have been the campaign focussing on Ginny Weasley as the new face of the company,' McLean said with a mournful sigh.

'Did you discuss the recruitment of Ms Weasley with the management?'

'Of course I did. My deputy and I had a conference about that with the Potters on Monday, the eleventh of May.'

'How did the accused react to the recruitment of Ms Weasley?'

'She seemed to be surprised.'

'In a pleasant way?'

'N… no, I wouldn't say that.'

Roper bent forward and slammed her flat hand on the narrow top that covered the baluster around the witness box. 'How was her reaction then, Mr McLean?'

'She looked shocked.'

Roper whirled around to the judge's table. 'She looked shocked. Well, any woman would be shocked if she found out her husband just hired his mistress for the company she owned, wouldn't she?' She walked to the evidence table, picked up a photo and held it up for the judges to see. 'The prosecution introduces piece of evidence number P two: a picture of the husband of the accused and the later victim dancing together at the Veterans Ball. The husband of the accused ditched his wife in order to dance the third dance of the ball, the dance that traditionally is reserved for married couples, with his mistress, thus humiliating the accused in public. This was two days before he hired the later victim.'

Murmurs flared up in the courtroom and died down as Anthony shot to his feet. 'Objection. This is mere speculation on part of the prosecution.'

'Objection sustained!' Susan said. 'Please, refrain from further speculative comments like this, Madam Roper.'

'Of course, your honour.' Roper's voice sounded meek, yet, she had made her point and couldn't suppress a small smile of triumph as she looked at Anthony over her shoulder.

She turned back to McLean. 'Isn't it true that the advertisement campaign you had planned on for your company included a big promotional party?'

'Yes, that's true.'

'Where did that event take place?'

'At _The Rectory.'_

Roper's eyebrows shot up at that. '_The Rectory. _Isn't that the Potter's private residence?'

'Yes, it is.'

'Isn't it unusual that the Potters use their private residence for a promotional event?'

McLean shook his head. 'I wouldn't say so, no. It's a common practice for them at least with regards to the Muggle part of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products. In fact it's somewhat a tradition since the time of our founders to hold promotional events at _The Rectory. _That's what inspired the idea of this party.'

Roper scowled. Apparently she didn't like McLean's answer and had done very little research into their companies promotional activities, in fact it was highly likely that she hadn't taken any notice of the Muggle part of the business at all. However, her face was calm again the next second. 'Were the preparations for the promotional party also part of your job?'

'No, that was done by Mrs Potter.'

A predatory gleam appeared in Roper's eyes. 'How did Mrs Potter take the news she had to prepare a party in celebration of the ex-girlfriend and, according to the press, supposed mistress of her husband?'

McLean shot Daphne a miserable side glance. 'She seemed shocked. She broke the quill she held in her hand.'

'Thank you, Mr McLean,' Roper walked back to her seat. 'Your witness,' she said over her shoulder with a triumphant smile at Anthony.

Anthony got up and walked to the witness box.

'Mr McLean, you already outlined for the benefit of the court your field of duty at Crystal Fairy Beauty Products. Part of it is the development and supervision of advertisement campaigns, in cooperation with the management. Will you, please, outline how this process is conducted at Crystal Fairy Beauty Products?'

McLean leaned back in his seat. 'Well, there's an annual meeting of the board of directors with Mrs and Mr Potter. We evaluate the current state of the company, and then Mr Potter outlines his and Mrs Potter's goals for the short, mid and long-term futures of the company. Then we'll have a general discussion about that afterwards, identifying milestones and other things that will help us meet those goals. At this point we discuss the proposed budgets and we usually get a final decision on each departments operational budget for the year which obviously includes my department. During my presentation we also make any decisions about any new advertising campaigns, if we deem them necessary.'

Anthony rose an eyebrow. 'We? I thought Mr Potter runs the company?'

'He makes the final decision and bears the responsibility, together with his wife as the co-owner. However, Mr Potter will always listen to the opinions of the experts in the company and base his decision on that. Mrs Potter is of course part of all of those high-level discussions.'

'Ah, I see. So, the decision for the advertisement campaign with Ms Weasley was already made a year ago?'

'That's not quite right,' McLean said. 'We decided on a new campaign, yes. But then it was up to my staff and me to come up with ideas for that. We developed about five different ideas, I think, and presented them to the Potters and the director of finances some time in March. They discussed the pros and cons of each suggestion, especially the costs, and finally agreed on the advertisement campaign that used celebrities of the magical world as models.'

'Thank you for clarifying that point, Mr McLean,' Anthony said with a nod. 'So, it wasn't Mr Potter alone who decided on that special campaign. Did he select and contract Ms Weasley as the new face of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products?'

McLean permitted himself a small laugh. 'Mr Potter is a very busy man. He makes the major decisions, but he leaves it up to the directors of the departments of the company to carry them out. No, the selection of the model for the proposed campaign was part of my job, along with the negotiations and the signing of the final contract.'

Anthony started and gaped at McLean. 'Did I get that right? Are you telling me _you _picked out Ginevra Weasley, and _you _signed the contract with Ms Weasley on behalf of Crystal Fairy?'

Harry bit on the insides of his cheeks. Anthony had questioned him and Daphne for each detail about Ginny's contract, and he knew that McLean had selected the model and signed the contract. How long had Anthony practised this little speech in front of his bedroom mirror until he managed to pull off that convincing show of a surprised man?

'That's correct, I signed the contract with Ms Weasley,' McLean said.

'When was that?'

McLean scrunched up his nose. 'I don't remember the actual date anymore, it's on the contract of course. In any case, it was before my deputy and I had the conference with the Potters about our progress with the campaign.'

'Did Mr Potter know about the contract you signed with Ms Weasley in the name of the company before that meeting with him and Mrs Potter?'

'No, he didn't. That was the point of that meeting to inform him and Mrs Potter about the contract,' McLean said with a shake of his head.

Loud murmurs broke out in the courtroom at that unexpected revelation, and Susan had to employ her gavel again to restore order.

Anthony waited until the noise died down. 'We know already how Mrs Potter reacted to the recruitment of Ms Weasley and the news she had to prepare a party in her honour. However, how did Mr Potter react to your news?'

'I'd say, just as I had expected to the first one. My deputy and I were rather satisfied we had managed to struck a bargain with an A-class celebrity and sports star like Ms Weasley. Mr Potter, however, is not as easily excited, like his late father-in-law he's got a level head on his shoulders. If my memory doesn't deceive me, he said something like he'd reserve his judgement on whether the deal was good for our company until he had heard all the details of the contract.'

'Level headed, indeed,' Anthony said with a small grin. 'And how did Mr Potter react to the name of the party involved?'

'He was even more shocked than his wife.'

Again, the noise level in the courtroom shot up until Susan banged the gavel repeatedly.

'What makes you think so?' Anthony asked as soon as order was restored.

'Well, it was rather obvious. When my deputy mentioned the party, Mr Potter sat bolt upright in his seat and asked him if he was kidding. He looked utterly shocked. I've never before seen Mr Potter lose his cool demeanor in a meeting, he's as cold blooded as a fish when it comes to tough decisions, always weighing up the pros and the cons.'

This caused another round of comments among the spectators that faded out at the stern glare from Susan.

'What happened then?'

'Mr Potter was against the party. He mentioned the article about him and Ms Weasley in the _Sunday Prophet, _and how that article had upset Mrs Potter, and he said he wasn't inclined to put her into such a situation once again. I've never seen him that furious, I thought he was going to pull out his wand and blow my head off.'

Soft chuckles ran through the room, intermingled with surprised comments.

'Thankfully it didn't come to that, and since the party took place, Mr Potter obviously changed his mind. How did that come to pass?' Anthony asked in a dry tone.

'Well, the credit for that belongs to Mrs Potter. She calmed him down in a jiffy. I have no idea what she said to him, because she cast a Privacy Ward, but he listened to her and her words obviously made him think. In the end, he agreed albeit reluctantly, and we went on with our agenda.'

'It's obvious Mrs Potter already schemed to kill Ms Weasley. She goaded her husband into agreeing to the party so she could get easy access to the victim,' Roper called from her place.

Anthony whirled around to the judge's table. 'Your Honour, I protest the interference of the prosecution with the defences' right to question the witness. Again, the interjection of the prosecution is nothing, but speculation and aspersions about the defendant that are completely unjustified and aimed to leading the honourable judges to inaccurate assumptions.'

Susan glared at Roper. 'Madam Roper, please refrain from undue attempts to influence the court. It doesn't cast a favourable light on the case of the prosecution.'

Roper looked as if she was about to give a hot reply, but reined in her anger as her brother cleared his throat again.

His point made, Anthony looked up at Susan. 'Your Honour, the defence thinks it of utmost importance to counteract the wrong impression the prosecution tried to create with that undue remark immediately. We ask for permission to introduce a witness to counteract the supposition of the prosecution.'

'Objection!' Roper shot to her feet. 'Your Honour, this is completely unnecessary and another attempt of the defence to distance themselves from the truth.'

Susan gave her a blank stare. 'Madam Roper, I think I already made myself clear that I won't tolerate your attempts to influence the panel of judges with undue statements in a case where I am elected presiding judge and duty bound to make sure the rights of the accused of a fair trial are observed. Objection overruled!' She banged her gavel. 'Please, call your witness, Mr Goldstein.'

Anthony thanked her with a small bow. He straightened and said, 'The defence calls Mr Harry Potter.'

The courtroom fell dead silent.

Harry stood up, the all of a sudden sweaty palms of his hands pressed against the side of his robes in an unobtrusive attempt to dry them, and walked to the witness box, passing McLean as he exited the same box and headed back towards his seat .

Harry sat down; Susan cautioned him about his rights as the husband of the accused.

'I want to give testimony,' he answered her question.

Anthony stepped in front of him. 'Mr Potter, you heard what Mr McLean said. I think I speak for everyone in this room when I say we'd like to hear your point of view, especially what caused you to change your opinion about the promotional party being held at your home.'

The wave of murmurs rolling through the courtroom lend credence to his words.

'Quiet,' Susan said.

Every eye in the room was on him. Harry took a deep breath. 'The _Sunday Prophet _had blown what happened at Veterans Ball out of proportion and garnished everything with wrong and lurid speculations about the alleged relationship I had with Ginny. While Daphne never said a word, I could tell it was getting at her. I'd just returned from the Continent on the day of the ball, and even though my wife denied it, it was plain to me she wasn't feeling well. I wanted to spare her another round of sensationalist and wrong newspaper articles, so I objected to the plan when Patterson brought it up.'

He gave a rueful chuckle. 'Truth be told, I was livid, as Director McLean already said. Daphne, however, forced me to employ common sense. She correctly pointed out that the contract was beneficial for the company: we'd hardly find another A-list celebrity or sports star of Ginny's calibre, and the negotiated fee was reasonable. My late father-in-law tutored me as his successor, and he taught me to put the demands of the company before my personal comfort or the comfort of my family. Daphne's intervention reminded me of that. She also pointed out that the party was for the benefit of the company and that there was no reason for treating Ginny differently to any other model that we have under contract for the Muggle part of the company. It would have given her a power we both were loath to give her. So I agreed, even though I still didn't like it one bit.'

The drop of a pin could have been heard while he talked, when he ended, however, the spectators at once commented to their neighbours on his testimony, and it took repeated calls of order from Susan to quieten them down.

Anthony made a sweeping gesture towards Roper. 'Your witness.'

Roper stood up and walked up to Harry. 'That surely was a touching tale of husbandly concern, Mr Potter. However, how much of it is true, given the constant reports that your wife is holding you under Love Potions, reports which have existed right from the beginning of your marriage?'

Harry almost rolled his eyes at her. Was Roper really dumb enough to believe what the _Prophet _printed as news? It seemed so, or she was fishing in the dark, which was rather unprofessional of her, albeit not surprising from what he'd seen of this trial so far. Thank Merlin for little blessings!

He gave Roper his best devil-may-care-smile, a smile he'd trained himself to give in memory of Sirius and that never failed to "knock foolish witches out of their high heels," as his wife had remarked, rather sourly, on more than one occasion. 'I wondered if those unsubstantiated claims might rear their ugly heads, Madam Roper, so I am prepared to counteract your claims.' He stuck his hand into the inner pocket of his robes and pulled out a roll of parchment with the seal of the _Hotel Dieu Magique _attached to it. 'This is a medical certificate from my healer of choice, I have continued seeing him every other month as a precaution after I overcame the condition that was diagnosed prior to my marriage to my beloved,' he stated, twisting the knife as best he could into the bitches assertions. 'It states that I have never been under the influence of any undue substances or curses, since I commenced seeing him.'

Roper blinked at him for long seconds, but made no attempt to take the roll of parchment he held out to her.

For the third time that day Harry bit on the insides of his cheeks. Who would have thought that Roper, of all ugly hags in the world, was no exception to the loads of silly girls fawning over him?

Anthony stepped beside her. 'With your permission, Madam Roper,' he said and took the certificate out of Harry's hand to give it to the clerk. 'The defence introduces the medical certificate of Healer Petite, a member of staff of the _Hotel Dieu Magique _and a world-wide renowned expert on rare potions, as piece of evidence D one to the trial.'

'Any more questions, Madam Roper?' Susan asked.

Roper shook her head, still a bedazzled expression on her face.

'You may return to your seat, Mr Potter,' Susan said.

Harry stood up and walked to his place in the front row. His gaze locked with Daphne's. She gave him a small smile and an imperceptible shake of her head, the words "What am I going to do with you?" written all over her face. He winked at her, but made sure to school his face into a bland mask once again when he sat down, even if others had seen it, it wouldn't do to have Roper thinking he was toying with her.

Roper shifted through her papers, cleared her throat, and looked up. 'The prosecution is calling Deputy Head Auror Dawlish.'

Dawlish stood up and went to the witness box, an arrogant expression on his face.

Harry's stomach gave a hard lurch and bile rose into his throat, which he swallowed down hard. There was no doubt the idiot was looking forward to his big moment at court. His hands curled into fists by his side. If he'd got five minutes only with Dawlish, the self-confident sneer would be wiped off his face once and for all. He exhaled a pent-up breath; it wouldn't do to get all worked-up before Dawlish even had opened his mouth, Anthony would know how to deal with him.

'Deputy Head Auror Dawlish, please tell us what you discovered when you arrived at the crime scene on the morning of the nineteenth of May.'

Dawlish crossed his legs and steepled his fingers in an impersonation of thought, as though he were trying hard to remember the exact circumstances.

Harry gave an inward snort. As if the git hadn't rehearsed his testimony at least a half a dozen times already.

'The Auror department had been alerted by Mr Harry Potter that the dead body of Ginevra Weasley had been found at his house. I went over by Floo, the head house elf led me to Ms Weasley's bedroom, the master bedroom of the house, as I had been informed. I found the victim crumpled to the floor, her back leaned against the wall next to the head of the bed. The bedsheets had been torn from the bed and the lamp on the bedside table had toppled over. There was blood on the back of Ms Weasley's head, and a matching bloodstain on the wall. From the way I found the victim it was obvious she'd been blasted into the wall by a Blasting Curse. The impact cracked her skull, and she died a short time later because of the severe injury.'

'Thank you, Deputy Head Auror Dawlish,' Roper said. 'No more questions.'

Susan motioned to Anthony. He stood up, a thin folder in his hand.

'Deputy Head Auror Dawlish, do you know what this is?' He held the folder up for Dawlish to see.

'I have no idea,' Dawlish replied in a bored voice.

'I thought as much.' Anthony's mutter was loud enough for all to hear and Dawlish bristled at the connotation. Anthony ignored him, turning his attention back to the court and held the folder up for the judges and anyone else in the room to see. 'These are the guidelines for Auror investigations. Chapter three of these guidelines deals with the investigations of homicides. Nine years ago these guidelines were developed by a team that consisted of members of the Auror Department, members of the D.M.L.E., members of the Wizengamot and defence lawyers. These guidelines were ratified by the Wizengamot less than a year after they were presented to our ruling body and have been the standard operating procedure in the Auror Department ever since then.'

He paused to let his words sink in. 'Basically, these guidelines are the rules that dictate the work of the Auror Department in a homicide investigation among other things. You, _Deputy Head Auror _Dawlish, just admitted you have no idea of the rules you have to observe while doing your job.'

Heat shot into Dawlish' face, and he opened his mouth.

Anthony gave him no time for that. 'Tell me, _Deputy Head Auror _Dawlish, who is the first person to set a foot at the crime scene and examine the victim?'

'Er…'

'You seem to be struggling with that so I'll help you out, it's an Unspeakable trained in forensics; the Department of Mysteries developed a new department dedicated to support the Aurors after the war. Tell me, _Deputy Head Auror _Dawlish, did you ask an Unspeakable to investigate the crime scene?'

'Er…'

'You don't have to answer that; your report about your findings at the crime scene makes it pretty obvious that you didn't.' Anthony jabbed his index finger at Dawlish. 'You, _Deputy Head Auror _Dawlish, decided that you knew better than the Wizengamot and blatantly disregarded the very conventions of magical crime scene investigations!' His voice rolled like thunder through the courtroom.

A deafening silence followed, then the whispers set in, while the many reporters in the room scribbled down their notes, a look of delight on their faces as if Christmas had come early.

Harry cast a look at the judge's table. Orphington, Ogden, and Carmichael had sat up straight, deep frowns on their faces. Warrington, on the other hand, cringed as if someone had kicked him into the groin.

Now, that was strange, didn't Geoffrey Roper's puppets know on what flimsy grounds the claims of the prosecution stood? It was Anthony's main strategy to point out the many mistakes of the Auror Department and make the judges as well as the public realise that Daphne was the victim of arbitrary justice and very circumstantial evidence.

He let his eyes wander to Geoffrey Roper. In true Pureblood fashion, he was unmoved on the outside, albeit the look he cast at the back of his sister's head didn't bode well for her. Glee welled up in Harry, warm and satisfying. He wished the bitch all the worst. Come to think of it, Geoffrey Roper too. He had launched his sister into a position of power during the still dark times after the war, in the full knowledge that Eugenia Roper had no formal training for the job she was expected to do. Not that she had done herself any favours, she hadn't made any effort to learn the ropes of her trade during the last eight years. In true Pureblood fashion she had delegated the real work to her subordinates and had only appeared in public to take credit. Well, it seemed it all finally came back to bite the Ropers into their arses.

Anthony wasn't finished yet, he turned to the judge's table, his finger pointed at the witness box. '_Deputy Head Auror _Dawlish was so confident he knew best that his blatant disregard of the law is well documented in the case file. The defence will prove that the glaring mistakes he made led to the wrongful accusation of the defendant, while the real murderer of Ginny Weasley is still out there.'

This caused Orphington, Ogden, and Carmichael to put their heads together and hold a whispered conversation behind a Privacy Ward.

Anthony turned back to the witness and stalked towards him. 'Isn't it true, _Deputy Head Auror _Dawlish, that you told the team of Aurors that came with you, each member highly trained in crime scene investigations, to stand down and cool their heels in the entrance hall? Isn't it true, _Deputy Head Auror _Dawlish, that you kicked the Unspeakable who slipped into the victim's bedroom behind your back _to do his job and abide by the very stipulation within the Auror training manual _out of the room? Isn't it true, _Deputy Head Auror _Dawlish, that you forbade moving the victim's body to the morgue in the Department of Mysteries for the Unspeakables to conduct a magical autopsy on the body to determine the cause of death?' Anthony's questions battered down on Dawlish like steel hammers.

Red spots appeared on Dawlish' cheeks, and he recoiled in his seat. At the last question, however, he straightened and glared at Anthony. 'That wasn't necessary, it was obvious she'd died of a Blasting Hex!'

Anthony's eyebrows shot up at that. 'Oh, so you have abilities we don't know of yet that you can tell the cause of death by just one look on the body?'

The red spots on Dawlish' face intensified. 'Young man, I was already working as an Auror while you were still in your nappies. Don't you dare go doubting my judgement.'

'Oh, I'll do more than just doubt your abilities, _Deputy Head Auror_.' Anthony stepped to the witness box, grabbed the balustrade with both hands and leaned forward until his nose almost touched Dawlish'. 'I'll quite happily tell the court that I think your bumbling disregard for protocol patently hindered the capture of the real perpetrator.'

Anthony leaned back and look disgustedly at the man in front of him, 'You've done nothing to keep up with the developments of your profession, _Deputy Head Auror _Dawlish. In your ignorance you overlooked vital pieces of evidence. Tell me, how can it be that you failed to investigate the other rooms of the house?'

A new round of murmurs ran through the courtroom at that.

'It wasn't necessary, the crime took place in the bedroom.' Dawlish' defence sounded as feeble as it was.

'Did it never occur to you that an investigation of the other rooms might come up with evidence that Ginny Weasley was still alive after Mrs Potter left?' Anthony regarded Dawlish with a disbelieving shake of his head, then turned to the judge's table once again. 'The case of the defence will prove just that. Ginny Weasley was still alive when the defendant left and wasn't killed before early in the next morning.'

That statement caused an uproar in the courtroom, and Susan had to employ her gavel once again.

Anthony shot a withering glance at Dawlish. 'No more questions.'

Susan dismissed Dawlish with a negligent wave of her hand, Dawlish blinked as if he was still wondering which Hippogriff had trampled over him, and eventually stood and moved back to his seat, slightly swaying as he walked. When he finally turned around to sit down, thus facing the opposite side of the courtroom, a small sheen of sweat glinted on his face.

'Do you think he shat himself?' Justin muttered next to Harry's ear, and Harry barely managed to turn the snort that escaped him into a cough.

Roper got up from her seat and stalked towards the table that held the pieces of evidence. If her face was anything to go by, she was furious that Anthony so far had managed to counteract each point of her case. She picked up a manila envelope from the table. 'The prosecution introduces its next piece of evidence, number P three: a manila folder that contains numerous photos of secret rendezvous the husband of the accused had with the victim over the course of the last five years.' She held the manila envelope up for the judges and then for the audience to see. It sported a bright red stamp on the front.

Harry went rigid in his seat. Hadn't Greco mentioned a brown manila envelope with a red stamp that was missing from Ginny's safe? How were the odds of two identical manila envelopes connected to this case? What if this was the envelope that went missing from the safe in Ginny's dressing room? How had Roper got her hands on it, after all, Dawlish hadn't examined Ginny's dressing room?

He cast a look at Anthony's back, willing him to grasp the importance of the envelope.

Anthony was already on his feet, and Harry relaxed. His old friend from D.A. days was worth every Knut of the fee he demanded.

'Objection, your honour.'

Roper whirled around with flashing eyes. 'What now?'

'The defence wants to know how the prosecution got hold of that envelope.'

'I don't think that's of any importance for this case.' Roper looked down at Anthony along the back of her nose.

'I beg to differ, Madam Roper. The defence has reason to believe that this envelope was in the possession of the victim and went missing from the safe in her dressing room around the time of her death. Deputy Head Auror Dawlish already admitted he only examined the bedroom of the victim. So, the defence wants to know how that envelope ended up in the hands of the prosecution? That's a valid question that needs to be answered _before _a closer examination of the evidence. After all, the evidence could be compromised or even be a forgery.'

Once again loud whispers disturbed the hearing. Susan banged her gavel and turned to the other judges. Orphington raised a Privacy Ward, and a heated discussion took place, with Susan, Padma, and Orphington on one side, Warrington, Smith, and Ogden on the other side, and Carmichael obviously undecided. Both Warrington and Susan talked insistently to him. At last, Carmichael came to a decision and nodded at Susan. Orphington cancelled the Privacy Ward, and Susan turned to Roper.

'Answer the question of the defence, Madam Roper.'

Roper shot her a murderous look. 'The envelope was sent to us by mail, together with a letter explaining its content.'

'How very convenient,' Anthony said with raised eyebrows. 'And who, pray tell, sent the letter?'

'It was an anonymous letter,' Roper gritted out with clenched teeth.

Anthony's eyebrows almost disappeared behind his neatly combed fringe. 'Are you telling us, Madam Roper, that the prosecution has accepted a piece of evidence whose veracity cannot be verified, coming from an unknown source without asking once who sent it or why it was given to you? Didn't it once occur to you that this so-called piece of evidence was sent to you with the intention to manipulate your chain of reasoning? Didn't it once occur to you that the real murderer might have sent that envelope to you to cover their tracks?'

With each of his sentences the whispers in the courtroom became louder, until Susan banged her gavel. 'Quiet!'

Anthony turned towards her. 'Your honour, the defence humbly request that the prosecution be directed to hand the envelope, its contents and the letter that came with it, to the Department of Mysteries for forensic examination. There's still hope the prosecution's amateurish handling of the evidence has not yet destroyed all fingerprints and we might find a link to the real murderer.'

'I protest that, the defence is clutching at any and all bristles in a broom,' Roper shouted.

Susan didn't pay her any heed, again she and the other judges held a conversation behind a Privacy Ward. This one was much shorter, though. Susan, Padma, Orphington and Carrington were of one mind, and Ogden voted with them. The glare Warrington shot him didn't bode well for the man.

Susan cancelled the Privacy Ward. 'Request sustained. Madam Roper, please hand over the pieces of evidence in question and the letter.'

Roper huffed, but went to her table, pulled a sheet of parchment out of her folder and handed it to Susan, together with the envelope.

Susan took the papers and glanced at the big clock over the public entrance door. 'While these papers are being examined by the Unspeakables, we will break for lunch and will sit again at two-thirty.' She banged her gavel and announced, 'Case adjourned.'

_t.b.c._


	33. Chapter 33

_ **Ministry of Magic, June 2nd 2008** _

As soon as Susan had adjourned the hearing and stood up from the judge's table, Ron also got to his feet with a deep sigh and took his wife's hand. Hermione replied with a small squeeze and caressed the back of his hand with her thumb. She always knew when he needed comfort and never hesitated to give it.

'Well, this was a most interesting morning,' a man in the tier behind them remarked to his neighbour.

Ron heaved another sigh as he let himself drift out of the courtroom with the masses. Interesting wasn't the word he would have used, devastating came much closer. As happy as he was for Harry and Daphne that none of Roper's so-called pieces of evidence had stuck so far, the professional in him couldn't help but be furious about the way she and Dawlish had handled the case: their unprofessionalism would be remembered and would cast the D.M.L.E. and the Auror Department in a bad light for years to come, even after these two morons had been kicked out.

And kicked out they would be, or his name wasn't Ronald Bilius Weasley, and Kingsley wasn't the man he'd taken him for. At least something good would come from this travesty.

'Head Auror Weasley, one minute, please.'

He looked up, his face already schooled in the forbidding frown he wore whenever the press demanded a statement that he was not yet ready to give them. Then he recognised the man, one of the new rookie Aurors, and he relaxed. 'Oh, it's you, Hadley, sorry I didn't recognise you for a moment .'

'That's alright, Head Auror. Uhm -' The young rookie hesitated to go on while his eyes darted to the many people that surrounded them.

Ron drew his wand and cast a Privacy Ward around them. 'You know, this is one of the situations this charm is meant for. You can talk now.'

Hadley had the grace to blush. 'Sorry, Head Auror.' He took a deep breath and fidgeted with his hands.

Ron's stomach balled itself into a hard knot. Hadley's nervousness didn't bode well. What in the name of Merlin's saggy left testicle had happened now? As if Dawlish' disastrous performance in the courtroom wasn't already bad enough -

'It's Meadows, sir.'

Hadley's voice interrupted his thoughts, and every muscle in his body tensed. Senior Auror Meadows was one of the best men he had at the moment, and right now he was involved in a very complex undercover mission. 'What's with Meadows?' he asked, his voice sharper than he intended.

Hadley jumped. 'His cover's been blown. They tortured him and dumped him in a Muggle rubbish tip. We believe that they thought he was dead, and didn't break his wand for that reason.' He gulped and turned a shade of green that Ron hadn't seen for a while. 'You should've seen him, sir.' Hadley shook himself, swallowed again and continued, I've never seen anything like it… he's nothing but a bloody pulp, somehow he managed to retrieve his wand and send his Patronus for help. We found him just in time, the healer at St. Mungo's said, fifteen minutes later, and he would've been dead.'

A cold fist closed its fingers around Ron's heart. Not Meadows, not Urian, his family already had endured enough losses, it would be beyond cruel to lose another family member, especially the one who'd been born on the fifth anniversary of the death of his aunt Dorcas in the first war. He sighed, why in the world did he have to be on leave right now, when one of his men needed him? His face hardened, screw department policy, Kingsley could sanction him later, one of his men got hurt and he had to make sure he got the best care possible.

He cancelled the Privacy Ward and turned to his wife. 'It's an emergency, I've got to go. Give Harry my best if I'm not back on time and tell him I'm sorry.'

He didn't wait for Hermione's response and grabbed Hadley by the arm. 'Use your Emergency Portkey to take us to the hospital.'

The rookie nodded and touched an amulet on a chain around his neck.

Seconds later they landed in the lobby of St. Mungo's.

'Where to?' he asked the young Auror.

Hadley led the way to St. Mungo's latest achievement in magical healing, the MICU*, where the worst cases were treated.

They'd put Meadows into a small cubicle at the far end of the ward. Ron stopped at the entrance and watched, he'd never seen something like this before.

Meadows' bed was surrounded by at least a dozen softly whirring silver instruments on low trolleys. Every few minutes one of the instruments would ping or give a puff of smoke in different colours, and the healer who sat on a chair next to Meadows would pull his wand and wave it across Meadows' body in a complicated pattern.

Meadows' left arm from fingers to shoulder seemed to be bathing in some sort of blood-red goo, and both legs, as well as his torso, were swathed in bandages that were stained with leaking fluids.

Ron knocked lightly on the doorframe to make his presence known. 'How is he?' he asked and walked into the cubicle, mindful not to bump into one of the low tables with the delicate instruments.

The healer looked up with a frown on his face. When he recognised Ron, his face softened. 'Head Auror Weasley.' He waved his wand once again across Meadows' body. A string of runes appeared, the healer studied them with an inscrutable expression and then turned to Ron. 'Rightfully, he should be dead. I have no idea how he survived the injuries those beasts in the guise of human beings inflicted on him. He's a strong one, that much is sure. He's also very agitated, though, he's continually fighting to get back to consciousness.'

Ron's eyes widened. 'The last we heard of him was that he was having a meeting with the inner circle of the gang he observed. He must've been found out during that meeting, he never made it back to the debriefing.'

He closed his eyes, trying to imagine how he would feel if he had attended to an important meeting, maybe heard something of vast importance to the ongoing case, and being unable to deliver his message because of his condition. Meadows was a good Auror, one of the best in the whole department. He'd fight tooth and nail to get his job done, no matter what it would cost him.

'May I?' Ron pointed towards the side of the hospital bed. 'Maybe I can calm him down.'

The healer made an inviting gesture.

Ron stepped next to the bed and took Meadows' right hand, which was missing his pinky finger and was bandaged heavily to the elbow. 'Urian, can you hear me? It's me, Ron Weasley. Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.'

He held his breath. There, Meadows' bandaged fingers flexed around his hand in a weak pressure.

'Good man,' Ron said with a broad grin on his face. 'Listen, Urian, I know you were at a lunch meeting with the inner circle of that new Death Eater gang. I think you've heard something of importance there. Press my hand again if I'm right.'

Again, there was that almost imperceptible pressure.

'Alright, I think you heard something we need to know.'

This time the pressure was much stronger.

Ron bent down until his head was very close to Meadows'. 'Come on, tell me, I know you can do it.'

Meadows' hand clung to his, only one of his eyes popped open, the white was blood red, the pupil so dilated that the brown iris was almost obscured, and his split and puffy lips tried to form words. A massive bruise that was black as any Ron had seen before covered his jaw, and Ron shuddered. Meadow' lips moved again, revealing what a wreck his mouth was: teeth chipped, broken or completely missing, his tongue a swollen lump of flesh that couldn't even wet his dry lips without causing great pain.

Ron brought his ear close to Meadows' mouth so as not to miss a single syllable.

'Luce Ma'foy - con'act - Dafee Pot-.'

The words were so low Ron almost didn't understand them. What was the meaning of that? He furrowed his eyebrows and thought about Meadows' words.

Everything within Ron went ice cold. He'd been right all along, the slimy bastard was out to get Daphne. He straightened and patted Meadows' hand. 'Alright, Urian, you've delivered your message, you can relax now.'

A small sigh escaped Meadows' mouth, his eyelid fluttered shut, and he slipped into a deep sleep.

'Amazing,' the healer said.

'He's an Auror, one of the best, he wouldn't rest until his job was done and he'd reported in,' Ron said, his thoughts already running ahead to the next things that had to be done. Malfoy had bought a contract on Daphne and the bastard had ordered the murder of one of his Aurors.

Ron took a deep breath. Malfoy would be back in holding cells before the day was much older.

* * *

After the war the Malfoy house elves had learned the hard way never to slam the door of Malfoy Manor into the faces of the Aurors. When Ron and half a dozen of Aurors appeared on the doorstep, they didn't even squeak, instead they moved aside and held the doors open.

Draco, on the other hand, was obviously not as capable of learning as his elves.

'What's the meaning of this?' he asked as he stepped out of the drawing room and into the entrance hall, obviously alarmed by the sounds of many feet in the hall. At the sight of Ron and the half dozen Aurors accompanying him his hand went to his wand pocket.

Ron's wand flicked with the speed that hours of constant drilling provided, and Draco's wand sailed through the air and clattered onto the immaculate marble floor at the far end of the entrance hall.

'Arrest him,' Ron said, and two of his Aurors stepped forward. 'Where's your husband?' he asked Narcissa who had appeared in the doorframe behind Draco, followed by her daughter-in-law.

'Up in his bedroom,' Narcissa said. Was he mistaken or was there a gleam of triumph in her cold eyes? It was hard to tell, her face was as unmoved as ever, while her daughter in law didn't bother to hide her glee as she watched the Aurors putting her husband into a Body Bind Curse, before applying the new magical suppression cuffs to his arms, which would curtail any wandless and animagi abilities.

The Malfoy men evidently really had a way with their wives.

'Don't bother yourself, I know my way.' Like every other Auror who had been in the force longer than five minutes, he knew the layout of Malfoy Manor by heart. He motioned with his head toward the four other Aurors, and together they hurried up the broad stairs and down the hallway towards the master bedroom.

They didn't bother to announce themselves with a polite knock on the door.

The tall door banged open, Ron's eyes searched the room for his prey, wand at the ready.

Lucius Malfoy lay on top of the brocade covers of the huge bed, his right hand clutched in the folds of his robes above his heart. The colour of his skin was a sickly grey, sweat beaded on his forehead, and his breath came in shallow, laboured gasps that echoed through the room as soon as the bang of the door faded away.

'Lucius Malfoy, I arrest you for the attempted murder of Daphne Potter and Urian Meadows.'

The ghost of a sneer flickered around Lucius' lips. 'I knew you'd come. However, you're too late.' He took another laboured breath, and his face became even paler. With what seemed to be his last bit of strength he rose his head from the cushions and stared at Ron. 'I swear by the grave of the Dark Lord, I was never out to harm Daphne Potter.'

His head sank back onto the cushion, he drew another gurgling breath, then his breast stopped moving, and his vacant eyes stared up at the canopy.

'Damn it!' Ron kicked his foot against a bedpost, wincing as his foot rebounded from the hard wood surface. The bloody bastard had cheated him out of his revenge for Meadows by dying on him.

'Do you think he said the truth about the contract on Mrs Potter, sir?' one of the younger Aurors asked him. By now everyone in the department knew about Mundungus' failed deal with Roper, that Dean had told him.

Ron shook his head. 'No, Lucius Malfoy was a lying, self-serving bastard all his life long. I doubt he underwent a sudden reformation on his deathbed. However, the assassin is not going to carry out the contract when Lucius' death and Draco's arrest become public. He won't hang his arse out to dry for two crooks who aren't able to help him cover his tracks or pay him anymore.'

_t.b.c._


	34. Chapter 34

_ **The Rectory, June 2nd 2008** _

Harry and Daphne Apparated back to _The Rectory, _together with Anthony and their Auror guards of Seamus and Dean. Harry had sent his Patronus to Greco and asked the man to join them for lunch while they were still fighting their way through the crowds to the Ministry Apparition Point.

'Was it my imagination or were the crowds not as hostile as this morning?' Harry asked as they walked towards the house.

'They definitely were more subdued,' Anthony said. 'Maybe Roper's performance or lack thereof had them thinking. Although I wouldn't put my money on it, Merlin only knows what Skeeter will make of this morning and which way she will sway public opinion. Anyway, it's the judge's opinion we have to worry about, and if I'm not mistaken, Orphington, Ogden and Carmichael are distinctly unhappy with Roper.'

Daphne cocked her head to the side. 'That's good, isn't it?'

'Indeed,' Anthony said, but was interrupted by the sound of Apparition behind them. They turned around.

Greco walked towards them with long strides, with the expression of a man who'd had a productive morning.

'We'll station ourselves out here, Harry, that way, even if we're asked, we couldn't hear anything if we wanted to,' said Dean, motioning to the outdoor setting on the front veranda.

Harry nodded, 'I'll have some lunch delivered out to you shortly, and thanks, guys.'

The two Aurors just gave him nods and moved off to the table and chairs.

Harry waited until they were in the house and had sat down at the table in the breakfast room, where Matty had laid out two pitchers of juice and water along with a cold lunch of bread, meats, cheese and fruits for them. He asked her to provide the same for Seamus and Dean before organising his thoughts. 'I gather you came across something new this morning?' he asked Greco and put a small slice of meat on his plate. He eyed his plate, a queasy feeling in his stomach. His throat was still constricted, would he get anything down at all?

'Well, I don't know yet if it's going to be good, but we're making fast progress with the investigations in Ms Weasley's estate. Also, I got the additional answers from my contact in the U.S.A. following my inquiry to Her Majesty's Land Registry about the ownership of Williams' flat.'

'And that is?' Harry asked with an audible breath and pursed his lips. Sometimes Greco was just a tad too smug for his taste.

Greco put his fork on his plate and pulled his ever-present notepad out of the pocket of his robes. 'According to the Land Registry the flat belongs to a company named Carenton Ltd. with their main office in Dover. The only shareholder of that company is an U.S. company, N.D.C. LLC, with their offices in Salem, Massachusetts. I wrote my contact in the U.S.A. for more information about them and he got back to me almost immediately.' He paused and took a sip of his pumpkin juice.

Harry barely refrained from tapping his foot.

Greco put down his glass. 'N.D.C. LLC is owned to one hundred percent by another company - Carrington Real Estate LLC., also from Salem, Massachusetts. Does that name ring a bell?'

The other three gaped at him. 'You mean -' Daphne said.

'Carrington Real Estate LLC is owned by one single man - one Mr Alexander Carrington, currently living in Paris, France, if my contact has his informations straight. I've already ordered an International Portkey for tomorrow morning. Mr Carrington and I are going to have a little chat about the man currently residing in his London property.'

Daphne leaned back in her seat, her face marred by a deep frown. 'I had no idea that Alexander Carrington was my cousin until a couple of days ago, and now his name keeps popping up at every angle we look. Am I the only one who thinks this is too much of a coincidence?'

'You aren't, love,' Harry said and put his hand on hers.

'I also got news about Elias Frudge,' Greco said. 'I think we have to scratch him off the list of probable suspects. According to my sources in the U.S.A. his new wife is expecting twins and facing a difficult pregnancy. The babies are due any day now, and I've been told Frudge has spent the last four weeks waiting on his wife hand and foot while she's been confined to bed rest, albeit at an exclusive maternity home.'

Daphne's face brightened at that. 'I'm happy to hear that. I hated to think of Elias as a possible suspect, he's such a nice guy.'

During the remainder of the lunch break they brought Greco up to speed about the happenings of the morning. Greco shared their tentatively optimistic view. 'Keep up the good work,' he said to Anthony as they parted for the afternoon, Greco to return to his work on Ginny's estate, and the other three to return to the courtroom.

The tiers of the courtroom were already filled to bursting when they walked into the room, Roper was sat in her chair, her nose buried into a thick folder. The judges came back not even a minute after them, and Susan reopened the trial.

The court clerk handed her a thick manila envelope. Susan broke the seal and examined the contents.

'The Department of Mysteries delivered quick work,' she said and motioned to Anthony and Roper to come to the judge's table. 'These are the copies of the reports about the examination the Department of Mysteries conducted on the envelope and its contents the Prosecution wanted to introduce to the trial this morning.' She handed Anthony and Roper each a folder. 'Does the prosecution plead for an adjournment so they can get acquainted with the results of the investigation?'

Roper thumbed through the folder. At Susan's question she looked up. 'That won't be necessary.'

Susan's eyebrows shot up. The next moment, she had her features back under control. 'Very well. What about you, Mr Goldstein?'

Anthony looked up from the folder in his hands. 'The defence wishes to hear the testimony of the Unspeakable who conducted the examination, to get an understanding if the evidence is contaminated before it is introduced to the trial by the prosecution.'

Susan shared a look with the other judges. Padma, Orphington, and Carmichael nodded. She didn't wait for the other three to make up their mind and banged the gavel. 'Sustained.' She nodded towards the court clerk.

For a second time that day a dove Patronus flew out of the courtroom. A few minutes later the tall doors opened and a grey-robed Unspeakable walked in, his face hidden under the hood of his robes, which were worked with runes designed to slightly obscure the wearers face and alter the voice when the hood was up.

Susan motioned him towards the witness box and cautioned him, then nodded towards Anthony. 'Your witness, Mr Goldstein.'

Anthony stood up and walked to the witness box. As a rule, Unspeakables were permitted to keep their anonymity at court, for reasons of security as well as to stress their impartiality, so Anthony didn't address the Unspeakable with his name, even though he stood close enough to him to make out most of his features and probably could hazard a guess at who it was if he knew them.

'Unspeakable X, please describe to the court what kind of examinations you performed on the envelope and the photos it contained.'

The Unspeakable cleared his throat and spoke in a deep baritone. 'We examined the envelope for fingerprints and human DNA.'

His statement caused a lot of murmurs among the visitors.

'That was to be expected,' Justin muttered, and Harry nodded in agreement. Muggle methods of providing evidence like fingerprints and lately the magical DNA analysis had been approved by the Wizengamot after the end of the war and were eventually becoming common in criminal cases. The broad magical public, however, still didn't know what to think of the relatively new methods. While the Muggleborns and Halfbloods were open minded, most Purebloods deemed it unnecessary, new-fangled nonsense.

Warrington seemed to share the opinion of most Purebloods, if his sneer was anything to go by. What a surprise. Harry dried his moist palms at the side of his robes. Would the other judges be more open minded? Orphington, Ogden and Carmichael at least listened to the Unspeakable with undivided attention, and so did Padma. That was more than could be said about Smith, he seemed to be half asleep in his seat once again.

Susan sent a warning glance towards the audience, and the murmurs died down.

'What did you find out?' Anthony asked.

'We couldn't secure enough DNA material for a proper analysis, so these findings aren't conclusive. However, we managed to secure numerous sets of fingerprints.'

'How many?'

'We counted the partly overlapping fingerprints of ten different people.'

A smug grin appeared on Roper's face, and Harry's heart fell. Was it possible to separate the overlapping fingerprints from each other with magical means? Even if that was the case, wouldn't it be next to impossible to identify ten different people? At least it would be impossible as long as their fingerprints weren't already collected in the archives of the Department of Mysteries - which was true for the fingerprints of most of the magical population.

'You mean, the envelope and the photos have been handed by ten people each?' Anthony asked.

'I didn't say that. We counted the fingerprints of ten different people, but not each object was handed by all of them. In fact, most photos only showed four or five sets of prints, while the envelope probably held the prints of even more people, but they were smudgy so we couldn't identify them. The letter, however, only showed the fingerprints of three people, of whom we could identify two.'

Anthony gave a nod of understanding. 'I see.' He paused, as if contemplating his next question. 'Please, tell us in detail how you conducted the examination.'

The Unspeakable leaned back in his seat and crossed his legs, he gave the impression of a man who felt as at home in the courtroom as he did in his own living room. 'Most citizens of magical Britain have no idea how much magitechnical progress was impeded by the uprising Pureblood supremacist movement since the early twentieth century.'

Loud hisses from the visitor tiers followed that statement, and Susan banged her gavel. 'Quiet!'

The Unspeakable was not at all fazed by the disturbers. 'Until then, our culture, while hiding from the Muggles, always had kept a somewhat open mind to Muggle achievements and more than once developed magical means to adapt Muggle inventions to our world. The Hogwarts Express, the Wizarding Wireless, and magical photography are prime examples of this. In each case these masterpieces of magical genius were achieved by Purebloods, Halfbloods and Muggleborns working together, with the latter providing the necessary insight to the technical workings of the Muggle inventions, so that magical substitutes could be found.'

'Well, that history lesson is nice and well, but I fail to see what it has to do with this case,' Roper said. Her remark elicited a lot of approving murmurs from the audience.

Anthony whirled around to the judge's table. 'The defence once again protests the repeated interference of the prosecution with our right to interrogate the witness as we see fit.'

'Sustained,' Susan said without hesitation. 'Madam Roper, this is the second time you interfered with the rights of the defence, you'd better keep your remarks to yourself during the rest of the interrogation, or I'm going to use a Silencing Charm on you.'

This time, Harry didn't bother to hide his grin. It was about time Roper learned that her tactics didn't work.

'Bear with me, I will come to the important points soon,' the Unspeakable said. 'This excursion into the history of magitechnical developments is necessary to understand our new methods of examination.'

That got the attention of the audience, the hissing and whispers died down.

'Everything changed at the beginning of the twentieth century. The publishing of "The Pureblood Directory" marked the first lowpoint in our society, the social exclusion of Muggleborns from those within the halls of power. In its wake followed a series of laws that made it nigh on impossible for Muggleborns to obtain a job higher ranking than that of a simple secretary or maintenance worker across most of our society. The Auror Department and the Department of Mysteries were explicitly forbidden to hire Muggleborns. Many Muggleborns left our society and even the country, a process that was aided by the rise of Grindelwald. Since the mid-forties of the last century not a single magitechnical development has been made in this country. At the same time, due to the raging war in Europe and the desire of the Allied Forces to put an end to that, technical development in the Muggle world took an ever increasing upswing. Ever since the last days of Grindelwald the magical world and the Muggle world in this country have drifted apart at an alarming speed. By the end of the Second War against You-Know-Who the Muggle world was so far ahead of us that they would've been able to extinguish all magical people with a flick of a control switch.'

His last words were met with an incredulous silence.

'Hippogryff shit!' a voice from the topmost tiers shouted at last.

'I wish it was.' The Unspeakable sighed. 'We were lucky that the monster that was out to ruin our world has been overcome. As a result, almost all laws that discriminate Muggleborns have been revoked, and we're already reaping the fruits of those decisions. A new generation of Muggleborns is working in the Auror Department and within the Department of Mysteries. From them we have been given information regarding the unheard developments that Muggles have made in the field of forensics, and we've worked hard to come up with magical equivalents to the Muggle techniques. Today, I'm proud to say we not only drew level with some of the developments the Muggles have made, but in some aspects we surpassed them. That is especially true for the spells we developed for the examinations of fingerprints.'

Cheers rang through the courtroom, a lot of wizards and witches sported bright smiles on their faces and were having animated conversations with the people next to them. Even the judges smiled pleased and proud at the last statement of the Unspeakable, Warrington and Smith included.

Justin's eyes became big. 'Holy shit, he's playing them like a fiddle, he's calling on their pride to make them accept the use of what is basically a Muggle achievement and process in this trial.'

'Makes you wonder if he was a Slytherin.' Harry snorted.

'In the Muggle world the examination of overlapping fingerprints is a very complicated process, it is something that they only have limited success with even now, and without the help of the invention they call computers they wouldn't be able to do it at all. Muggle scientists all over the world have worked and are still working hard to develop and improve the so-called programmes they are running on those computers to examine fingerprints. There's a lot of manual work involved to enter the fingerprints into the computer systems, followed by complicated and sometimes lengthy operations within those computers until the overlapping fingerprints are separated. They need to repeat the process to find out whether there's a match in their archives, and a third process determines the age of the respective fingerprints.' The Unspeakable paused.

'I'm proud to tell you that the Department of Mysteries developed a series of spells to achieve the same results in a modicum of the time that Muggles take. These spells can be cast in a spell chain, so magical examination of fingerprints takes only a few seconds until we get reliable results.'

The audience whooped at this.

'He's a good actor,' Harry said to Justin under the noise in the room and cast a surreptitious look at Roper. The smug smile had been wiped off her face. There was no doubt she had counted on the Department of Mysteries being unable to gather any relevant evidence from the envelope and its content.

Susan banged her gavel to restore order.

'Thank you for that fascinating explanation, Unspeakable X,' Anthony said. 'Will you, please, share the results of your investigations?'

'Certainly Mr Goldstein; as I said before, the envelope has been handed by too many people to get decent results. We hoped, however, that less people would have had reasons to look at the contents, so we concentrated on the photos and the letter coming with them. As I previously mentioned, we got ten different sets of overlapping fingerprints from the photos, seven of them we couldn't identify. The oldest fingerprints our Detection Spells came up with belonged to six different people, of whom we couldn't identify anyone. Since they were the first layer of fingerprints on the photos, it is very likely they belonged to the wizard or witch who developed the photos and maybe put them into a bag to send them to whomever. The next layer of fingerprints belonged to the victim. Without any doubt Ginevra Weasley has looked at each of the photos in the envelope, at least twice, we also know that she made a set of duplicates at some point, given the Gemino Spell residue and her magical signature.'

Of course this revelation was commented by the audience, and Susan needed to restore order in the courtroom once again.

The Unspeakable waited until the whispers had died down. 'Ms Weasley's fingerprints were overlapped by a set of fingerprints we couldn't identify. This witch or wizard also held each photo in their hands. The last two layers of fingerprints that overlapped the fingerprints of the up to now unknown witch or wizard belonged to the Head of the D.M.L.E. and the Deputy Head Auror. They both have handled the evidence without taking any of the usual precautions outlined in the investigative manual. Rather unprofessional, I must say.'

Roper and Dawlish both turned crimson at the Unspeakable's blunt statement, and Harry's lips twitched. That served them right.

'What about the letter that was sent to the D.M.L.E.?' Anthony asked.

'This one had three sets of overlapping fingerprints. The first set was identical with the fingerprints of the as of yet unidentified witch or wizard who handed the photos between the victim and Madam Roper and Deputy Head Auror Dawlish. The other two sets we identified as the fingerprints of Madam Roper and Deputy Head Auror Dawlish.'

'Thank you, Unspeakable X,' Anthony said. 'I don't have any more questions.'

Susan looked at Roper, who shook her head.

Anthony turned to the judge's table. 'The defence enters a plea that the envelope and its contents not be introduced to the trial as piece of evidence for the prosecution. As the Department of Mysteries have ably demonstrated, the photos have been handled by a yet unknown person _after _the victim held them in her hands, and then been sent to the D.M.L.E. anonymously. Since the yet unidentified fingerprints were on both the photos and the letter, it's a safe guess that the person who saw the pictures after the victim also sent them to the D.M.L.E., and chose to stay anonymously to hide their involvement into the death of Ginevra Weasley.'

Roper shot to her feet. 'Objection! This is speculation on part of the defence. We don't know the motive of whoever sent the pictures for staying anonymous, and therefore we can't draw any conclusions if this person was involved in the murder of Ginevra Weasley.'

Harry heaved an inward sigh. For once Roper was right, unfortunately, given the information she and the court had at this point. The defence hadn't revealed Williams' potential role in this case yet, and they wouldn't do so until the prosecution's case was closed. He glanced at the panel of judges, who were once again discussing the topic behind a Privacy Ward.

Susan lifted the Privacy Ward. 'Objection sustained. The envelope and its content will be admitted to the case as piece of evidence P three of the prosecution.'

If Anthony was frustrated by this decision, he didn't let on. He accepted it with a small nod towards the judges and returned to his seat next to Daphne.

Roper cast a triumphant look at him, that Anthony did not deign to see. When Susan motioned to her to continue the case of the prosecution, she stood up. She gave a brief glance at the envelope, frowned, bit her lip, and seemed to come to a decision.

'The prosecution calls Mrs Molly Weasley.'

The courtroom fell dead silent.

Harry gave another inward sigh, he should have expected this, over the course of the few short weeks since Ginny's death speculations about the relationship between him, Daphne and Ginny had gone from hyperbol to the insanely ludicrous in the British press. Skeeter had ignited the first spark with her article about the Veterans Ball. As they'd feared, soon after Daphne's arrest rumours about Harry being blackmailed into a marriage with Daphne by the Greengrass family had been smeared through _The Daily Prophet_; with no doubt in anyone's mind that the leak was somewhere high up in the D.M.L.E. The rumours had turned public opinion against Daphne even more.

Spurred on by _The Daily Prophet_, the British magical public couldn't wait to hear what really had been going on between the Saviour of the Magical World and the two women who'd had a starring role in his love life from an inside source.

Harry cast a look on Molly's resolute, but distraught face as she mounted the witness box. As soon as she sat, she threw a quick glance at Daphne, a determined glint in her eyes, and his heart sank. Obviously she couldn't wait, either, to present her story to the magical world, a story that would likely paint Daphne in a heinous light.

Susan cautioned Molly about her duties, and Roper was just about to ask her first question, when Anthony interrupted.

'The defence petitions that the witness be questioned under Veritaserum.'

'Objection,' Roper shouted into the loud murmurs of the spectators. She turned to the judge's table and addressed Susan. 'Your Honour, the law regarding this is unambiguous: a witness may be questioned under Veritaserum if they consent, or if there's a strong indication the witness might attempt to obfuscate the truth. Mrs Weasley won't give her consent, and nothing indicates that she's going to do anything but tell the truth as she knows it.'

'The defence concedes that the prosecution is correct in its statements except for the fact that she's the mother of the victim, apparently deeply distressed by the death of her only daughter and, going by your case so far, Madam Roper, we believe that much of Mrs Weasley's evidence will be hearsay and conjecture,' Anthony said. 'The defence believes that without the use of Veritaserum that there is a strong probability that the witness will … uhm … adapt her statement to fit a certain outcome, in the understandable wish to see someone pay for the death of her daughter, without even being aware she's potentially fabricating evidence, Your Honour.'

Susan exchanged a look with the other judges. 'We will discuss that.' She cast a Privacy Ward.

The discussion seemed to go on for hours, to the point where Harry was becoming uncomfortable in his seat. It soon became apparent that Susan, William Orphington and Padma were in one corner, while Warrington, Smith and Carmichael had another point of view. Ogden seemed to be undecided for a long time, until Warrington bent towards him and said something that obviously wasn't meant for the ears of the other judges. Ogden paled, and gave a small nod.

The judges seemed to have come to a decision, Susan cancelled the Privacy Ward. 'Petition dismissed,' she said and motioned to Roper to continue. Nothing in her demeanour let on if she'd noticed the small exchange between Warrington and Ogden, and what she thought about it.

Harry gave Ogden a thoughtful look. So, over the course of the lunch break, Warrington seemed to have found some sort of lever that guaranteed Ogden's compliance. He had the recess day tomorrow to come up with something for Orphington, Carmichael, Padma and Susan. Merlin have mercy he would fail.

Roper gave Molly a reassuring smile. Had they practised ahead what would happen while Molly was in the witness box?

'Mrs Weasley, during the first weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts everyone in the magical world thought your daughter was the steady girlfriend of our saviour. The announcement of his marriage to the accused came like a bolt of lightning out of blue skies. Can you tell us how that came to pass?'

Molly gave a teary sniff, but nodded. 'Harry and Ginny already had been Hogwarts sweethearts during Harry's sixth year and Ginny's fifth year. Albus Dumbledore had given Harry a task to complete, and Harry knew he wasn't returning to Hogwarts for his seventh year. He couldn't ask Ginny to come with him, since she was still a minor and had the Trace on her, and he also knew she would be in danger if she was known to be his girlfriend, so he ended things with her after Albus' funeral, albeit it was plain to see it killed both of them.' Molly pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes to the sympathetic murmurs in the room.

'The feelings they had for each other were strong, so it was no surprise for any of us they survived the long separation. They were back together almost immediately after the war. You should have seen them, they were so happy despite all the losses we had suffered. Ginny was beaming like the sun, and Harry practically carried her on his hands. Arthur and I were sure he was going to propose on her seventeenth birthday.' She pressed the handkerchief to her eyes.

'We know it never came to that. What happened?' Roper asked.

'There was that family agreement between the Greengrass and the Potters. Apparently Harry's grandfather had been best friends with Cyrus Greengrass' father, or something like that, and the two men got it into their heads to unite the families by the marriage of their children, should they happen to have a boy and a girl. They even had a contract, barbaric, if you ask me.' Molly's chest heaved in indignation.

'It never came to that since both families had only boys in that generation. Cyrus Greengrass and James Potter weren't much better than their fathers, though, they both had the same bee in the bonnet, but thankfully their wives were smarter than them and put an end to their horrible idea, or Harry would have been bound to Daphne in a marriage contract the day he was born.' She huffed.

Roper furrowed her eyebrows. 'I always had the impression Mr Potter had to marry his wife because of an old marriage contract between the families. After all, that was the explanation Cyrus Greengrass gave for the surprising marriage.'

Molly became tense, she lowered her handkerchief and shot a death glare at Daphne. 'He lied. There never was a marriage contract between Harry and _that woman,_' she said in a quivering voice. 'Cyrus Greengrass wanted to get Harry under his thumb, and he wasn't squeamish about the means he used. He blackmailed Harry into marrying his daughter.'

Pandemonium broke out in the visitors tiers at her words. Susan banged her gavel repeatedly, with no result.

Harry cast a look at the rigid back of his wife. How had she taken Molly's testimony? His heart became heavy, and he heaved an inward sigh. If only he could spare her this humiliation and heartache. However, he knew her well enough to be sure that the exposure of their private life, although bad enough, wasn't as half as painful to her than the slandering of her father's name, a father she had admired and loved despite of what he'd done to her or to them.

Daphne's posture didn't let on anything of the hurt she felt. Pride of his wife welled up in him, no matter what happened, Daphne wouldn't lose her composure and she'd fight as long as it was necessary.

Roper waited until Susan got the room under control. 'What exactly did Cyrus Greengrass do to the Saviour of the Magical World?'

'James Potter was the son of elderly parents. His father made Cyrus Greengrass, who was much older than James, the executor of his will until James or his heirs turned thirty. Until then, it was up to Cyrus how much gold James, or those after him, Harry, would get out of the estate.'

A tear rolled down Molly's cheek. 'Nobody knew, even Ginny had no idea, he hid it so well, but the years of fighting against You-Know-Who had taken their toll on Harry. When the war was over, he was diagnosed with a terminal illness. According to the healers at St. Mungo's there was only one way to help him, an extremely expensive treatment with a very rare potion regime.' Her voice broke and she pressed the handkerchief against her eyes.

Harry bit on his lips. He remembered as if it had been yesterday Molly's distress about his condition, and her rightful anger of Cyrus on his behalf. There was no doubt Molly loved him. If only she hadn't let her grief get the better of her and lashed out at Daphne! Still, Molly cared for him, he had to remind himself of that whenever his anger toward her threatened to get the better of him.

Molly needed a few moments to get herself back under control. When she looked up, her eyes still brimmed with tears. 'The Goblins had taken all the money in Harry's trust vault as compensation for the damage he'd caused when he broke into Gringotts and escaped on the back of one of their dragons.'

'What?' a wizard on the upmost tiers shouted. 'Those greedy little bastards! They should have rewarded him for saving our world!'

An uproar followed his words. Susan's gavel had as good as no effect to quieten down the enraged masses. Quite a lot of the visitors, red-faced with anger, were clamoring for a severe punishment of the Goblin Nation for the unjust treatment of their saviour.

A hand pressed Harry's shoulder, and he turned around to look into Bill's tense face. 'Say something, Harry, or we're going to have the next Goblin-Wizard War on our hands before this day is much older.'

Harry looked around, into the enraged faces of the wizards and witches in the room. Bill had a point there, once again the magical world proved that common sense wasn't its strongest quality.

He stood up, walked a few steps towards the judge's table and turned around to face the visitors tiers. Then he raised his wand.

_Bang!_

The room fell silent, the explosion still echoing around the vast room.

'I want to make one thing very clear to each and everyone of you present: after the war the Goblin Nation and I entered into negotiations about how to deal with the repercussions of my break-in at Gringotts. They were honourable and forthright with me through the entire process and we very quickly managed to come to an agreement that was beneficial _for both sides_. There was no pressure exerted on me, I paid the compensation we'd agreed on of my own free will. While it left me somewhat short of cash reserves for some time, I was never destitute nor could I not afford to live and buy for where required. That's all. Thank you for your attention.' He turned to the judge's table. 'I'm sorry I monopolised your domiciliary rights, Your Honours.'

Susan inclined her head. 'On this occasion I believe that we will make an exception, Mr Potter. However please don't make a habit out of it.'

The soft chuckles that ran around the courtroom cleared away the remaining tension. Harry gave a short bow to the judge's table and went back to his seat.

'Please, go ahead,' Susan said to Roper.

Roper motioned to Molly to go on with her story.

'Harry would have died without that special treatment. However, at that point he didn't have the Galleons to pay for what he needed, so he went to Cyrus Greengrass and asked him to give him the gold out of his father's estate. Cyrus Greengrass refused.'

Yet again the room exploded into a hubbub.

'And how did he explain his refusal?' Roper asked as soon as Susan had restored order.

'A few weeks prior Cyrus had talked to Harry about his estate. During that discussion he demanded that Harry become his successor and marry his daughter, he reasoned after this is what he and James had planned when the two were born. Harry refused, and Cyrus told him he'd make sure that Harry wouldn't get a single Knut out of the estate before he turned thirty, unless he bowed to his demands.'

Molly took a deep breath. 'When Harry asked him of the money for his treatment, Cyrus Greengrass gave him the ultimatum: agree to his demands to be trained as his successor and marry his daughter, or there would be no access to his money.'

Pandemonium broke loose in the courtroom once more, Susan banged her gavel repeatedly to no avail. At last she took a note out of Harry's book and cast a Cannon Blast Spell. The noise quieted down, but even then there were the odd resentful mutterings and hateful stares directed at Daphne.

Daphne sat very straight. Nothing in her demeanour let on if the public's reaction was getting at her.

Harry balled his fists by his side to prevent himself from jumping up, taking her in his arms, and sheltering her from the hate directed at her.

'Quiet, or I will have the courtroom cleared,' Susan said in a magically amplified voice.

That did the trick, the last whispers died down, albeit the hateful glares at Daphne continued.

'Was Mrs Potter an accomplice in the blackmail?' Roper asked.

Molly shrugged. 'Well, she went ahead with it, so I guess she was.'

Anthony sprung to his feet. 'Objection! That's pure conjecture on the part of the witness.'

'Objection sustained,' Susan said. 'Mrs Weasley, if you don't know first-hand of Mrs Potter's opinion of her father's plan before the marriage took place, you have to say so.'

'I never talked to her about that,' Molly said grudgingly.

'Thank you, Mrs Weasley.' Anthony gave her a small bow and sat down, apparently oblivious to the glare Molly shot at him.

'Cyrus Greengrass plan to blackmail the Saviour of the Magical World into a marriage with his daughter obviously worked,' Roper said. 'However, how did he and your daughter react to their dreams of a shared future being destroyed?'

Molly let out a deep sigh. 'It's always hard to tell with Harry, he's so used to bottling everything up inside of him and will tell you that he's fine even when he's on the brink of death. If he was devastated, he didn't let on. Ginny, however, became distant. In the weeks coming up to Harry's marriage she avoided him and was hardly at home anymore. The day after the ceremony she told us she was going to sign a contract with the Taos Tornados and leave the country. I objected, of course, but my husband persuaded me to give her my blessing. He thought it would help her to get over Harry.'

She curled her fist around the handkerchief in her hand and let out another sigh. 'At first, it seemed as if my husband had been right. Ginny met Elias at Taos, and they seemed to have fallen for each other head over heels. However, that marriage didn't last long. They separated two years later, and for the next eight years until her death my little girl drifted from one unhappy marriage into another.'

Her face contorted, and she pressed the handkerchief to her eyes.

Roper waited until she had regained her composure. 'How did Mr Potter react to the news of Ms Weasley's first marriage?'

'That is hard to tell,' Molly said, and lowered the handkerchief into her lap. 'Harry has always been a model husband to Daphne, whenever I saw them together he behaved gentle and considerately towards her. That first Christmas after the war, when Ginny came for a surprise visit with her new husband, wasn't an exception. If Harry was hurt by Ginny's marriage, he didn't let on.' She tilted her head up as if remembering a detail. 'Although I remember he left the room at one point, and Ginny left soon after. Daphne followed them a couple of minutes later.'

'Do you know what happened between those three then?'

Molly shook her head. 'Ginny never told me. She came back into the room some time later. Harry and Daphne didn't return. Instead, Harry's house elf Apparated into our living room and told us that Daphne wasn't feeling well, so Harry had taken her home.'

Roper let that statement sink in while she appeared to consult her notes. The many whispers in the courtroom indicated that the speculations about the supposed love triangle between Harry, Daphne and Ginny Weasley were running wild.

'Let's talk about the events at this years Veterans Ball,' Roper said, looking up from her notes. 'You reported a confrontation between your daughter and the accused took place that evening, and the accused threatened to murder your daughter. What exactly happened?'

'Ginny was one of the guests of honour that night and as tradition dictated she sat at the Minister's table. The Potters also were part of that party. The Minister opened the ball with Ginny, and then she danced with another of her other dinner partners. For some reason Harry decided to ignore tradition and danced the third dance with Ginny instead of Daphne. She didn't take that well. A couple of hours after dinner Ginny visited my husband and me at our table. When she got up to return to her party, she stepped on her dress and ripped a seam appart. I offered to fix that, so we went to the restroom together. When we left the restroom, we ran into Daphne.'

Molly paused and licked her lips. 'I tell you, she was scary. The look she gave my little girl…' She shook her head, lost in her memory. 'Daphne blocked the doorway, so Ginny said something like, "Excuse me, please let us pass." Daphne didn't listen, she just kept glaring at Ginny with those flashing eyes. Next thing I know is she grabs Ginny by the shoulders. Her fingernails made deep scratches. And then she said, "Keep away from my husband, or I will kill you."'

Loud whispers flared up in the courtroom and died down just as quickly when Susan banged her gavel.

Once again Roper took a few moments to let Molly's words sink in before she asked the next question. 'What did your daughter tell you about her relationship with Mr Potter?'

'Ginny always has been very open with me,' Molly said. 'The last time I visited her in the U.S.A. she told me that Harry seemed to go out of his way to meet up with her whenever he was over there. They'd meet at parties, and he'd always seek her out and invite her to have a private dinner with him.'

Each eye in the room turned towards Harry at that, and then almost as one quite a lot of people bent towards their neighbours to talk about that astounding revelation.

Thanks to the hard school of knocks Cyrus had submitted him to Harry managed to keep a calm face, although everything inside of him screamed to shout out in protest. The time to rectify Molly's unfounded accusations and assumptions would come soon, Anthony would see to that, he just needed to bide his time.

'Did you talk about Mr Potter after your daughter returned to Britain?'

'We had a cup of tea together the Sunday after the promotional party. She told me that she and Harry had come closer ever since she'd returned to England, and that Harry had already asked Daphne for divorce, but that Daphne refused.' Once again her handkerchief had to spring into action. 'She told me she had a secret date with Harry that night, they were going to talk about how to go on with their relationship from then on, since Daphne refused a divorce. We made plans to meet on Tuesday morning for breakfast. It never came to that. Ginny didn't show up. Instead, Arthur and Bill came over and told me that… m… my only daughter was… d… dead!'

She buried her face in her hands, and her loud sobs echoed through the courtroom.

Harry's stomach clenched into a hard knot. No matter how angry he was at Molly for her false statements and half truths, her distress got at him. He would've given anything to be able to turn back time and spare her the loss of yet another child.

He cast a glance at the back of his wife. How was Daphne taking Molly's outburst?

Daphne and Anthony had their heads stuck together, Daphne talked to him in what seemed to be a rather agitated manner. Going by the pinched look on Anthony's face he didn't seem to like what she was saying one bit.

Roper patted Molly's shoulder and then turned to Anthony. 'Your witness.'

Anthony stood up and adjusted his robes. Daphne put her hand on his arm, gave him a determined look and said something in a low voice, to which Anthony reacted with a small, almost resigned nod.

Harry held his breath. What was Daphne scheming that didn't sit well with Anthony?

Anthony turned towards the judge's table. 'Your Honour, against my counsel the defendant doesn't wish to burden Mrs Weasley anymore today and passes on her right to question the witness, we do, however, reserve the right to recall the witness at a later date if clarifying statements are needed. Instead at this time, the defendant would like to address and counteract Mrs Weasley's evidence by recalling Mr Potter back to the stand, as it is permitted by the statute of wizarding law 101A.' He sat down again.

Another wave of excited whispers rolled through the courtroom. Daphne's decision was unusual, to say the least.

Yet, as Harry watched the still sobbing Molly Weasley, and each sob carved another furrow into his heart like a precisely executed Cutting Curse, he couldn't blame Daphne for giving up her right. An interrogation of Molly at this point would have been like kicking a puppy, not to mention that Molly was stubborn, would have dug in her heels and insisted that her spin of the events was right. That could do more harm than good to Daphne's case. Besides, neither Daphne nor he were keen to see Molly in trouble for giving false testimony after all she'd been through.

Again, the panel of judges held a discussion behind Privacy wards. Harry watched them with narrowed eyes. How would Ogden vote this time?

The man didn't seem to have to add much to the discussion, he sat back in his seat and let the others do the talking. As during the last discussions, Susan, Padma and Orphington were on the same line, with Warrington and Smith in opposition. Ogden now seemed to have joined the boat, if the weak nods he gave whenever Warrington spoke were something to go by. So, Carmichael was the man they had to watch.

Warrington talked to him in what seemed to be an agitated manner. Carmichael looked like a thundercloud, his face red and his brows furrowed. At last, he made a short retort that made Warrington shut up, and nodded to Susan.

Susan cancelled the Privacy Ward. 'Motion sustained. Mr Potter, please take a seat in the witness box.'

He stood up and walked to the witness box for a second time that day, his head held high and his jaw set, fully aware of the many sensationalist eyes on him. They probably couldn't wait to hear all the sordid details of the supposed love triangle right from the source. He'd show these morons out there how wrong they were.

He sent a short glance towards the judge's table as he sat down. Warrington regarded Carmichael with an unfathomable expression in his eyes. Was he scheming how to get the man under his influence? Likely. Carmichael, however, showed no signs of being impressed by Warrington's subtle threats. Good for him.

'The prosecution petitions the court to have the witness questioned under -.' Roper interrupted Anthony before he could even ask his first question.

Two could play that game. 'I agree,' Harry said, and suppressed a grin at the sight of a gaping Roper. She didn't seem to have counted on this. Was she really dumb enough to believe Molly's heartbroken diatribe? Well, if she did, she was in for another very nasty surprise, with everything confirmed by Veritaserum.

Anthony waited until the potion had been administered. 'Mr Potter, you heard that Mrs Weasley claimed in front of this court that ten years ago your wife supported her father, the late Cyrus Greengrass, in blackmailing you to break up your relationship with Ginny Weasley and marrying her instead. Mrs Weasley also claimed you actually never ended your relationship with her daughter and continued seeing her in secret. She further claimed you asked your wife for divorce after the death of your father-in-law, so you could marry Ms Ginevra Weasley, thus ultimately giving your wife a motive for killing Ms Ginevra Weasley out of jealousy.'

Anthony made a pause for effect, then asked, 'Mr Potter, are any of these claims true?'

'They aren't true.' Harry's calm voice rang through the courtroom, loud and clear, but he allowed the stilted, potion induced delivery to colour his words. Funny, the Veritaserum seemed to have had little effect on him. Was that due to his meanwhile strong Occlumency shields? Or was it connected to his ability to overcome the Imperius Curse? Whatever, he wouldn't complain.

'Please, tell us in your own words of the events that led up to your marriage with Mrs Potter.'

'In May ninety-eighty I was perfectly happy: the war was over, Voldemort was dead and no constant threat to my life anymore, and I'd got back together with Ginny. It was then when I got an owl from Cyrus Greengrass. He asked me for a meeting, pertaining to the will of my grandfather Fleamont Potter. I was curious, I didn't even know the names of my grandparents back then, so I went to see the man.'

He paused and cast a short side glance at his wife. Her face was calm, but the soft light in her eyes told him she remembered the beginning of their relationship, so full of doubt and fear, as clearly as he did.

'That was the day I found out I was the heir to half of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products. I can't say I was very impressed. Beauty Potions? Come on, I planned on becoming an Auror!'

His delivery may have been somewhat wooden, but the result was still the same. The courtroom broke out into laughter at that admission, even the judges cracked a smile.

'Cyrus, however, had my future planned out for me,' Harry said as soon as the laughter died down. 'He insisted I had to become his successor at Crystal Fairy, and he wanted me to marry his daughter. I took about two seconds to think about his most generous offer. There was no way I'd ever dabble in Beauty Potions, and I already had a girlfriend I thought I loved, so I said no on both accounts.'

He paused, then added in an even drier voice, 'That didn't go over well with Cyrus. He told me he'd cut me off the money from my estate until I either turned thirty or bowed to his wishes, whatever came first. I wasn't inclined to give in, so we parted ways on less than amicable terms that day. I was sure I wouldn't have to deal with him or his daughter, whom I could hardly remember from my Hogwarts days, until I turned thirty, a date in an unfathomable distant future for my seventeen year old self.'

Again, soft laughter rang through the courtroom.

'However, Fate obviously had other plans for me,' Harry said, and gave his wife a quick, sidewards smile. 'A few weeks later I made that agreement with Gringotts that left me without any significant disposable cash reserves until I'd get my first pay as an Auror in September. But that was alright with me, I've never needed much gold. Little did I know, however, that my plans of becoming an Auror would crumble into nothingness because of the obligatory health exam.'

He paused and pressed his lips together to keep more revealing words from stumbling out. Was this a bout of the infamous word-vomit Veritaserum caused? He'd be damned if he let on of the devastation he'd felt when Healer Payne told him the diagnosis in front of the vultures in this courtroom.

'The healer told me I was terminally ill, and that as far as he knew, there was only one way to regain my health: a series of treatments with a very rare and expensive potion regime. He estimated that I would need at least a million Galleons for that. Well, given my recent conversations with Cyrus, I knew I was good for that amount, albeit I didn't have the gold in cash. So I went to Gringotts to get a loan. They refused, said something about they didn't know if I'll still be worth that much on my thirtieth birthday.'

His heart rate sped up and he shifted in his seat. The memories of that day threatened to get at him; he couldn't allow that, he needed to keep his wits about him, for Daphne's sake.

'I tried to come up with other solutions; none of them would have brought the amount of gold I needed, or would have given me access to the gold in the limited time span I had left. It wasn't long before I knew that there was only one solution left: I had to talk to Cyrus and ask him to give me the gold out of my eventual estate, in the full knowledge he'd likely exert his power over me and demand I had to fulfill his wishes, thus forcing me to give up the job I'd wanted to do since I was fifteen, and give up on the girl I thought I loved.'

Nobody spoke a word, the whole courtroom hung at his lips.

'It was the best decision I ever made.' Even with the potion induced monotone he knew this statement would carry weight, not just to the audience but to Daphne too.

There was a second of incredulous silence, then pandemonium broke out as everyone in the courtroom felt the need to discuss this admission with their neighbours.

Harry cast another look at his wife. She gave him one of these special smiles, the ones that were meant only for him, and blew him a kiss, which he returned.

Anthony waited until Susan had restored order in the courtroom. 'Mr Potter, did you continue your relationship with Ginevra Weasley after you had married your wife?'

'No, I didn't. I broke up with Ginny the moment I'd made the decision to follow Cyrus' demand and marry Daphne.' His voice was hard, almost breaking through that stilted delivery.

Again, whispers flared up in the courtroom and were extinguished by the bang of Susan's gavel.

'Please, elaborate that, Mr Potter.'

'Well, I'm not a saint, but it somehow seemed wrong to me to ask the girl I'd dreamt of asking to become my wife to be my mistress instead. I thought too highly of her to submit her to that rather humiliating position. And then there was Daphne.'

He exchanged another smile with his wife. 'Back then, she was a complete stranger to me, yet a stranger who had agreed to go along with Cyrus' scheme and marry me, for whatever reasons of her own. She saved my life in doing so, and I was thankful for that. All I could do to show her my thankfulness was treating her decently and go through the motions of a normal marriage on the outside, so she wouldn't be humiliated by the gossip mongers. My resolution to treat her right was only reinforced during our so-called honeymoon.'

He took a deep breath. 'We never made it public, but Daphne and I spent the first week of our marriage in a hospital room in Paris, where I fought for my life and Daphne supported me on every step of the way. During that week, I was on the brink of death too many times to count, Daphne was literally my lifeline and she held me tethered to this world, bringing me back from the abyss each time. When the week was over, I knew I owed my life to Daphne multiple times. That made me even more determined to do right by Daphne. That week had created a connection between us, when our honeymoon was over, we had become best friends, and I had little doubt we were heading for more. As soon as I got to know Daphne, I fell for her, hard, fast and completely. My feelings for Ginny were a pale imitation to the depth of my feelings for Daphne, nothing more than a teenage crush, compared to what I feel for my wife.'

The fickle audience ah-ed and oh-ed at that. Harry blended them out. His eyes were glued to Daphne's in a silent exchange only they could understand.

The banging of Susan's gavel brought him back to reality. 'Quiet!' she shouted.

Anthony waited once again until the courtroom had become so silent you could have heard the drop of a pin. 'Mr Potter, did you ever ask your wife for divorce?'

'Not once, albeit she offered divorce to me twice.'

This caused another uproar. No matter how often Susan banged her gavel, the audience refused to quieten down. Finally she resorted to another Cannon Blast Spell.

'When was that?' Anthony asked into the strained silence that followed Susan's unorthodox way of keeping order in the courtroom.

'The first time was about four weeks into our marriage. I had found out that Ginny had moved to the U.S.A., everything became too much for me, and I left Daphne without a word and didn't return for another two weeks. I needed that time to get my priorities straight, for although my body had been repaired my head was a mess. However, Daphne got it all wrong. When I returned to her, she offered me divorce. I refused, because … oh, well for a number of reasons.' Once again he pressed his lips together to prevent the potion-induced word-vomit to stumble out. There was no need to tell more in such a public place.

'The second time was after the funeral of our family, when we had to make a decision about how we wanted the company move forward. Daphne was in a very bad place back then, not that I blame her, she lost every member of her family in an instant. This time I simply told her not to be daft, I wouldn't turn away from the best thing that had ever happened to me.'

Again, he turned his head and smiled at Daphne; the whole room faded into the background: only her eyes and her smile mattered.

Anthony turned to Roper. 'Your witness.'

Roper stood up and walked to the witness box, a sneer on her lips. 'Mr Potter, you really have an exceptional talent for heartwarming stories. However, I believe that you left out one tiny tidbit. What about Mrs Weasley's claim that your wife was a willing accomplice in her father's despicable scheme?'

Harry regarded Roper with a cold look. 'I never heard Mrs Weasley making that claim. She speculated about that possibility, but had to admit she didn't know for sure.'

Roper dismissed his objections with a wave of her hand. 'Be that as it may. You, yourself however admitted that your wife went along with her father's plans without any objection.'

'I didn't. That I didn't mention Daphne's reasons for going along with her father's plans doesn't mean she agreed with him. Actually, I have every reason to believe he blackmailed her into cooperating with his scheme, just like he blackmailed me. The first time I met Daphne in Cyrus' office for the signing of the prenup there was an unmistakable tension between her and Cyrus. Later, during our honeymoon, she became bitter and teary whenever Cyrus was mentioned, even though I got the impression that she and Cyrus had been very close previous to our marriage. Astoria and Isabella, Daphne's late sister and mother, confirmed my suspicion with their tales about Daphne's childhood, and how she used to follow her father like a puppy. The tension between Daphne and Cyrus lasted for a long time, it took my wife years into our marriage to make her peace with her father.' His throat was itchy, as if someone had rubbed it with sandpaper from the inside. Merlin, he needed a drink.

Roper pursed her lips, she didn't seem to like his answer at all. 'Alright, then let's talk about you and your feelings for the Greengrass family. I for one, don't find it very believable that you gave in to Cyrus Greengrass' demands without resistance, fell in love with his daughter within the blink of an eye and were best buddies for ever after with the man who _blackmailed you into a relationship_.'

Harry gave a soft chuckle that came out more like a wheezy cough. 'You're right, it wasn't as easy as that, it took Daphne and me considerable time to get to where we are now.' Again, he cast his wife a quick, sidewards smile. 'To address your doubts one after the other: I didn't have much strength left for resistance when I got the diagnosis, so sue me that I caved in pretty quickly. Although maybe it was too soon; had I known Cyrus the way I knew him in later years, I should have realised he'd never have followed through with his threats, he was a hell of a poker player though.' Again, he ignored the laughter and comments to his latest admission.

'Cyrus was a scrupulously honest business man, an incorruptible member of the Wizengamot, as well as a loving and fiercely protective father and husband. He would've done anything for his family literally anything, even if that meant to resort to questionable means like blackmailing his beloved daughter and me, if he thought it was for the best. And here's where there is a snag: he always thought he knew best. He was convinced Daphne and I would be a great match, so he had no qualms to forcing us together with unacceptable means. The other snag? The damned man was nearly always right.'

Once again, people stuck their heads together and whispered. Susan glared at the offenders, and it quickly became quiet.

'Cyrus and I never were best buddies, we butted heads more times than I like to admit.' Harry sighed. 'Yet, I have no doubt that he loved me, and he supported me in every way he could. He was in reality the father I never had.' He lowered his eyes and looked at his hands in his lap. 'I never realised how much he meant to me before he died, and I regret each day since that I never told him.'

A tiny sound, coming from Daphne, made him turn his head. Had it been a sob? Her eyes brimmed with tears, yet she gave him the sweetest smile.

'How touching.,' Roper sneered. 'Do you have an equally heartwarming tale about your relationship with your wife?'

A wave of heat rushed through Harry's body, he jerked his head up, his jaw clenched as he glared at the woman, and his voice was once more his own. 'Many, Madam Director, albeit nothing I'd ever want to share with the likes of you.'

The audience gasped as one.

His eyes bored holes into Roper who seemed to jerk back from him fractionally, her tongue flicked out and over her lips wetting them slightly. Eventually she turned to the table holding the prosecution's evidence and blatantly ignored his outburst to overtly focus on the evidence before her.

She picked up the manila folder, turning back to face him as she opened it in her left hand, and reached into the folder and pulled out a stack of photographs, which she laid out one next to the other in front of him. 'Mr Potter, you claim to have ended your relationship with the victim before your marriage. However, isn't it true that you both agreed to reignite your relationship on that first Christmas after your marriage? Isn't it true you used every opportunity to meet with Ms Weasley, _as these photos of your clandestine meetings show?'_

'No, that is not true.' He allowed the languidness of the potion to affect his voice again, eyeing the photos that had returned with the Unspeakable for the first time.

Before he could ascertain much, Roper gathered the photos together and shoved the stack under his nose. 'Mr Potter, you cannot deny that you met with Ms Weasley every time you visited the U.S.A. under the guise of a business trip! These pictures document your adulterous affair with the victim over a span of at least five years!' She flicked through the pictures one by one and made a large production of showing him, then the judges and the galleries, as though they were irrefutable proof of her statements.

Harry cocked a raised eyebrow at her. 'You made these conclusions from what exactly? The photos? My, Madam Director, I know that we encourage our children to let their imagination run wild, but yours is getting out of hand and leading you off the dragon reserve.'

More gasps rang through the courtroom. He ignored them, sat up very straight, and gave Roper one of these piercing looks that never failed to assert his authority at Crystal Fairy Beauty Products.

'I think it's about time to correct some of the misconceptions you and the public have about my wife and I, thanks to the inane and vacuous reporting by _The Daily Prophet._'

He made a pause for the effect, it wasn't necessary, every breath in the room was caught waiting for the next words from his lips.

'After I made the decision to marry Daphne, not once have I contemplated continuing my relationship with Ginny other than to attempt a platonic friendship. Ginny, it seems however, was another matter, she refused to leave me alone. The prenup Cyrus made Daphne and mesign stated that we couldn't divorce before we had an heir.'

Roper's eyes flashed up at this, and she sent a calculating look at Daphne.

Harry's stomach twisted, and he barely refrained from covering his face with the palm of his hand. What had he done now? There was no doubt Roper would use that at some point against Daphne.

'When I returned to _The Burrow _after the signing of the prenup, Ginny sought me out in the orchard where I had gone to have some time for myself, something that's hard to come by in the Weasley household.'

At this, the redheads behind Daphne chuckled to themselves, and even Arthur cracked a smile.

'She wrestled the details of the prenup out of me and had the bright idea to suggest I should divorce Daphne as soon as the heir we had promised to Cyrus was born.'

It became hot in the courtroom, the flash of ire he'd felt that day at Ginny's unfortunate words threatened to overwhelm him once again, and he took a deep breath.

The heat receded. 'That was the first inclination I got that Ginny and I weren't as compatible as I thought. She obviously didn't know me at all if she thought I'll ever leave any child of mine. Yet, that wasn't all. At every opportunity she had, Ginny kept on pestering me to continue our relationship, not only before I married Daphne, but for years to come after that. Not content to just work on me, she also tried to manipulate Daphne into distrusting me. Thank Merlin my wife is too smart to take anything at face value, especially if it came from Ginny, so she never succeeded.'

As he had expected, that statement caused another round of discussions among the audience. While Susan was busy to restore order, he cast a look at Molly and Arthur.

Molly looked at him with narrowed eyes, her face flushed and the brows of her eyes squished together. There was no doubt she didn't believe a word he'd said. Arthur, on the other hand, had slumped back in his seat and his eyes averted, albeit his hand still held Molly's. If Greco was right, he knew more about Ginny's machianations than he'd ever let on.

Roper gave him a look full of malice. 'I'm afraid this summary vilification of the good reputation of a dead woman won't do, Mr Potter. You'll have to elaborate your claims - if you can!'

Warmth rushed through his body, and he barely resisted from rubbing his hands. Roper had given him the opening he needed to tear apart the sappy picture Skeeter had created about Ginny and him, and to which Molly had lend credence with her statement.

'Oh, I can,' he said, and let his words shift back to a monotone as if he'd once again been overcome by the effects of the Veritaserum. 'What do you want to know? What about how Ginny intercepted me in the park of _The Rectory _when I was on my way to exchange my vows with Daphne and Ginny suggested I should make her my mistress?' He didn't heed the audible gasp that came from Molly and pressed on. 'Or how about later that day, when she cornered Daphne as she went up to her room to get ready for our honeymoon, and tried to make Daphne believe I'd never really give up on Ginny?'

'Were you present during that talk, Mr Potter?' Roper fired her question when he had to draw a breath.

Damn the woman. 'No, I wasn't. Daphne told me later.'

'Well, then that's hearsay, Mr Potter, please stick to the facts you witnessed.'

'It continued when we saw each other again for the first time after my marriage on Christmas that year. Weasley family get-togethers are always a rather boisterous and somewhat crowded affair. We'd had a huge Christmas dinner, and I'd eaten way too much and felt rather drowsy. We got together in the family room after that, twelve people in a small room with a roaring fire in the fireplace. It didn't take long and I had a headache coming on and felt suffocated, so I left the room for some fresh air. When I walked towards the orchard, Ginny caught up with me. Once again she tried to persuade me to make her my mistress, only by then I'd already let go of my feelings for Ginny, so I declined, albeit I tried to be gentle about it. She tried to feed me some nonsense that she'd never stopped loving me. Well, by then I'd come a long way from the naïve boy I'd still been when I first met Cyrus, and I'd found out about the affair she'd had going on at Hogwarts with the man who would later become her agent during the time I was on the run, so I wasn't inclined to even slightly believe her assertions, and told her so. Our little encounter ended when she threw her arms around me, wanting to kiss me, and I disentangled myself from her and walked away.'

He drew another deep breath. 'I was furious, and I didn't want to spoil Christmas Day for the Weasleys because of Ginny's actions, so I took a short walk outside of the premises of _The Burrow. _Daphne found me there a few minutes later. She was also distraught, she'd seen part of my conversation with Ginny from the kitchen window, but hadn't stayed long enough to see the outcome. Ginny then had tried to manipulate her into believing I'd asked Ginny to become my mistress that day. Thank Merlin that my wife is a rationally thinking Slytherin through and through, so she didn't take long to figure out that Ginny's story didn't add up. By that time we'd both decided we'd had enough of Ginny that day and left under the pretext of Daphne not feeling well.' The latter statement wasn't entirely true, yet close enough to the truth that he could overcome the Veritaserum. He'd be damned if he told the sensationalist public what had happened between Daphne and him that day.

'Again, Mr Potter: were you present during the talk between the accused and Ms Weasley?'

'No, Daphne told me about that.'

Roper sneered. 'I'll ask you once more, stick to the facts, Mr Potter. As interesting as this episode might be, it happened about five years before the first of these pictures were taken, if my estimation is correct. You didn't visit the U.S.A. before you finished your studies and had to travel for your company.'

So, for once Roper had done her homework. 'That's correct.'

A smirk flickered across Roper's face, and she looked at him down her nose. 'Well, Mr Potter, it obviously appears like you changed your mind about your relationship with Ms Weasley in those later years, these photos are proof of that.' She waved the stack of photos still in her hand.

'No, they aren't. Did you even once take a closer look at these photos, Madam Director? Given the direction of your questioning, I doubt it, or you would have noticed that they have all been taken in public places.'

'So, you deny you met Ms Weasley for clandestine dinners?'

Harry rolled his eyes and smirked at her. 'I don't deny I had dinner with Ginny a couple of times when I was in New York. However, there was nothing clandestine about them. Ginny had an uncanny ability to turn up at official events whenever I was in the U.S.A., and she'd always suggest that we have dinner together. I agreed to that a couple of times, firstly, because she was still a friend, albeit a distant one, and I didn't want to publicly snub her, secondly, out of respect for Arthur and Molly, and thirdly to show her that it was of no use trying to rekindle our relationship. At that first dinner it was obvious that we had almost nothing in common anymore, except for some shared memories and old friends. We ran out of topics to talk about within five minutes each time we met. I hoped she eventually would get the hint and move on.'

Roper looked as if she'd sucked on a lemon. However, she recovered soon.

'Let's talk about Ms Weasley's return to England. Isn't it true you made plans with Ms Weasley about her return?'

'No, that isn't true. The first I heard of her return was at the Veterans Ball, when Ron told me.'

Roper raised a sceptical eyebrow. 'Isn't it true you sought Ms Weasley out at Veterans Ball?'

'Most definitely not. It was like every other time, the other way round. She manipulated me into that unfortunate dance with her. I had the choice of letting her make a scene on the dance floor or comply with her machinations and deal with the consequences later.' Harry raised his hand and rubbed his face. 'I didn't count on _The Daily Prophet _making such a cock-and-bull-story out of that incident, and I'll forever regret that my innocent wife has to bear the brunt of my foolishness. The D.M.L.E. never would've thought of accusing her, hadn't it been for all the lies about Ginny and me.'

'What about your date with Ms Weasley for Sunday after the promotional party? After all, Ms Weasley told her mother about it, so it has to be true.'

'Merlin, no. I have no idea why Ginny told her mother that lie, for a lie it was. I never made plans for a date with Ginny. Daphne wasn't feeling well that day, I didn't leave the premises of _The Rectory _at all.'

'Did you at anytime meet Ms Weasley between the promotional party and the discovery of her death?'

Harry's stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. Merlin, he didn't want anyone to find out about his last talk to Ginny, least of all her family. However, the Veritaserum was still in theory working, and so he opened his mouth. 'I stumbled across her on my way from the Chamber of Commerce to the headquarters of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products on Monday around lunch time.'

The reaction of the audience confirmed his doubts about the wisdom of letting that encounter become public. People stuck their heads together and whispered, and many sent doubtful glances his way.

'And what was your reaction to that meeting?'

'I wasn't thrilled, that much is sure, especially since Ginny acted as if I was her long lost love and attempted to glue herself to me. I had my hands full to try and make her keep her distance. She was making a damned nuisance out of herself, and I was getting tired of her games, so I decided to put an end to them once and for all. I bought us some take-away and led her to a bench in a small park nearby, a very public park bench I might add. Over lunch I told her in no uncertain terms that I wasn't interested.'

The noise level in the courtroom flared up.

'You're lying. You know that you and my Ginny were destined for each other!' Molly's voice rose above the cacophony of noises. For a split second, the talking died down, only to set in with renewed vigor.

Susan banged her gavel. 'Quiet!'

Harry rolled his eyes at Molly. 'Not you, too. I've had enough of that from Ginny during our talk in the park. Please, spare me that nonsense about Potter men and redheads. For the record, my grandfather had black hair that my father inherited, where do you think this comes from?' he asked, pointing to his own black hair, 'It certainly wasn't my grandmother who by all reports had sandy brown hair,' he near growled before he turned back to Roper. 'To make a long story short, it didn't take long, before Ginny and I fought. I confronted her with the fact that I knew she'd been cheating on me while she was my girlfriend after the war, and -'

His voice was drowned out by the uproar in the courtroom.

'Liar!' Molly screamed over the hubbub. She'd sprung up from her seat, her fists balled and her face an unhealthy shade of red. Arthur got to his feet, too. He put his arm around her, said something to her and tried to get her to sit down again. She shook him off and kept glaring at Harry.

For the fourth time that day, a Cannon Blast Spell thundered through the courtroom. 'Mrs Weasley, sit down, please, or I'll have you removed from the courtroom,' Susan said into the silence that followed.

With a last withering look at Harry Molly sat down, and Susan motioned to Roper to continue the questioning.

A wave of fatigue flooded through him, his arms and legs became leaden, and his head seemed to be too heavy to carry it on his shoulders any longer. With a small groan, he bent forward, propped his elbows on his knees and buried his head in the palms of his hands.

'Mr Potter, are you feeling unwell?'

He raised his head and gave Susan a weak smile. 'I'm fine.'

A chorus of snorts came from the area where his friends sat, and Daphne rolled her eyes at him.

'No, you're not,' she mouthed and looked at her watch.

'I might feel some slight adverse reaction to Veritaserum,' he told Susan.

She nodded and looked at her watch. 'That's not uncommon, you've been under the effects for quite a while now. The prosecution is advised to close the questioning within the next five minutes, or we'll have to adjourn the hearing of Mr Potter testimony until he's had some time to recover.'

Harry held up his hand. 'I'll finish this today.' His jaw clenched, and he gave Roper a hard stare. 'As I said before I was so rudely interrupted, Ginny cheated on me while we were together after the war. I accused her of being a gold-digger, while she acted like some sort of damsel in distress. At last, however, she admitted she never saw me as a human being, but as The-Boy-Who-Lived, and her ticket to fame and wealth, and I told her that I never wanted to see her again.'

He looked down at his hands in his lap and let out a harsh laugh that echoed through the silent courtroom. 'Well, I got my wish, didn't I. By the next morning she was dead.'

Every eye in the room was on him, and nobody said a word. Even Roper seemed to have lost the ability of speech as she gaped at him for a long moment. 'No more questions,' she said at last.

Harry waited until the court clerk administered the antidote, stood up and left the witness box on unsteady legs. Halfway towards his seat he paused in front of Daphne and Anthony, leaned forward and kissed his wife's brow, then walked on towards his seat, all eyes in the room directed on him.

'Madam Roper, according to the docket you didn't name any more witnesses. Am I to take it that the prosecution's case is closed?' Susan's voice sounded like thunder in the quiet room.

Roper looked up to her as if awakening from a bad dream. 'Yes, Your Honour, the prosecution rests.'

'The case of Magical Britain against Daphne Isabella Potter is hereby adjourned,' Susan said with another bang of her gavel. 'The court will meet again on Wednesday, the fourth of June, to hear the case of the defence.'

As soon as Susan banged her gavel for the last time, Harry shot to his feet and closed the short distance to Daphne's seat with two long strides. He pulled her up and slung his arms around her, his face buried in her hair. Thank Merlin this day was over, and if he wasn't mistaken, the defence had made an impact.

Daphne clung to him for a long time, as if she needed to draw the strength to walk out of the courtroom from him, which was probably true. This day couldn't have been easy for her.

They were barely aware of the whooshing sound of the many flashlights around them while they took their time to recover from the nightmare they'd been through.

* * *

_ **The Rectory, June 2nd 2008** _

Harry sat down at the desk in Cyrus' former office with a heavy sigh. The day had been trying, to say the least.

Daphne's face had been ashen when they arrived at _The Rectory, _and he had insisted on calling Healer Payne. The healer had taken one look at Daphne and confined her to bed until Wednesday morning. Daphne didn't protest, a sure sign how worn out she was, and he had stayed by her bedside until she had fallen asleep, which thankfully didn't take long.

He'd gone back to his self-imposed task of examining Cyrus' files for a hint of the one behind the assassinations against Daphne and him, something he'd done each night when Daphne was asleep ever since this possible lead dawned on him. Even though Ron had sent him his Patronus during dinner and informed him about Lucius Malfoy's death and Draco's arrest, he didn't agree with his best friend's assessment that the Malfoys were the driving force behind the assassinations and that the threat was now over. He couldn't put his finger on it, but his gut told him there was more to it.

He'd already finished the first cabinet, "A to F" and started with the one "G to L".

The name on the fifth folder he pulled out made him pause. Greengrass, Dorian, Cyrus' estranged brother. He looked at the folder with a sinking feeling in his stomach. What can of worms was hidden between the plain cardboard? He pressed his lips together and sat a little straighter. Whatever it was, he had to know, for Daphne's sake. With a deep breath he opened the folder.

The oldest sheet of parchment was a letter from Dorian to his father, written in nineteen-seventy-six, and informing him of his arrival in the U.S.A., his marriage to a young witch from Salem and that he'd taken on her family name, albeit he not once mentioned the name of his bride. Nothing in the folder indicated that Albion Greengrass had ever answered the letter of the son he had cast out for joining Voldemort.

The next letter came almost four years later, in February nineteen-eighty, already addressed to Cyrus. Dorian demanded his share of the Greengrass fortune in this letter, and was not above threatening his older brother. _Rumour says your pretty young wife will be presenting you with the heir to the Greengrass name in summer, _Dorian wrote. _Congratulations, brother. It would be a pity if something happened to her and the baby, wouldn't it? I suggest that you consider my suggestion most seriously._

Harry lowered the folder onto the desk. The baby Dorian threatened in his letter had been Daphne. What a sick bastard! He clenched his teeth and went on with the examination of the folder.

Cyrus had refused Dorian's claims with a scathing letter of his own, a copy of which he had obviously placed in the file. Harry let out a low whistle, his father in law already had been a formidable opponent back then, he would've thought twice before attempting to cross him after having received such a letter.

Apparently, Dorian had agreed with Harry's assessment on that, as there were no more letters from him to his older brother. However, how he had taken Cyrus' refusal to give Dorian what he considered his? It was a pity that there was no way to tell.

Greco's report about Dorian's involvement and subsequent death in the Battle of Hogwarts came next. In his report Greco mentioned that a young man with an American accent had claimed the body. Was it Alexander Carrington? Most likely.

Harry leaned back in his seat, lost in his thoughts. How would he have felt, had he had to claim his father's dead body after a devastating defeat of the tyrant he had been raised to follow, given the beliefs of his parents? Also, had Daphne's unknown cousin been raised in the belief that his father's family withheld his inheritance? Had Alexander Carrington turned bitter and revengeful because of all of this?

He closed the folder with a deep sigh, pulled a piece of parchment towards him and picked up a quill. They didn't know, but it was a theory worth investigating when Greco had his talk to Carrington the next day.

_t.b.c._


	35. Chapter 35

_ **Nicolas Greco's house, June 3rd 1998** _

Nicholas Greco was partaking in his second cup of tea that morning, together with _The Daily Prophet. _His International Portkey to Paris was ready and waiting for him on his desk, it was due to leave in an hour. Time enough for him to read what new lies one Rita Skeeter had cooked up about the Potter case today.

He turned a page of the newspaper and sighed. Even though Mr Potter had presented the court with the evidence that he'd never been under the influence of mind-altering substances, Skeeter still claimed his wife had somehow held him under control by Love Potions. Skeeter also dismissed Goldsteins's masterful counters of the points of Roper's case as mere technicalities that would never be enough to get a "not guilty" verdict.

Greco pursed his lips. The grims would already be circling what they thought was the rotted corpse of the Potter influence because of this article. The defence hadn't presented their case yet, so there was still hope that Skeeter would have to eat her words when all this was over, he hoped the witch with a "B" liked the taste of humble pie.

Even though, today was a recess day in Mrs Potter's trial, and was a time the defence would use to evaluate the case of the prosecution and make some last changes and amendments to their own case because of the points the prosecution had brought up. He looked at his watch absently, Goldstein would already be working with Mrs Potter at _The Rectory, _while Mr Potter was looking through Cyrus Greengrass' old files; anything else that Harry found would likely come across his desk so he'd better be ready for that, too.

The young man had a good head on his shoulders and had instincts that would have made him a good Auror, had he chosen that path. He thought of the letter Mr Potter had sent him last night, he agreed with Mr Potter, this case was somehow intermixed with events from the past and Greengrass family history, although he still couldn't see the larger connections that he felt had to exist. Specifically how did Lucius Malfoy and his whelp fit into the mix? The death of the first and the arrest of the latter had been the other headline news of the day.

He took a deep breath and let go that chain of thought. From long experience he knew there was no use trying to force anything that was just out of his mental reach, he had to let his subconscious work on it and the answer would present itself in its own time - hopefully it would be soon enough to prevent Mrs Potter from being sent to Azkaban.

Albeit he doubted it would come to that. He and the Goblins of Gringotts had finished their investigations in Ginny Weasley's estate and the possible connections to Zabini and his mob family very late last night - hence his second cup of tea already this morning, and he'd sent his findings on to Goldstein immediately. Despite the late hour the man probably had danced a jig when he read his letter.

* * *

_ **Paris, June 3rd 2008** _

One hour later he found himself transported from a grey Norfolk day towards sunny Lutétia, the magical part of Paris, in front of a narrow, tall house. He'd already pulled the bell twice, yet nobody had come to answer the door. He took one step back and looked at the foreboding front of the house. All the shutters, painted an inky black, were closed. Was the house occupied at all? Had his source been wrong for the first time in a long time?

He had just about decided to turn and walk away when the tall, black door opened a crack. The bulbous, tennis-ball-sized eye of an elf peered at him. 'How mays Seedy helps sir?'

'Is Mr Carrington at home? I'd like to talk to him if he can spare a few minutes.'

The elf retreated, but left the door open. It lazily swung inside, widening the crack, and gave him a clear view of the elf walking down a long hallway towards another tall door, this one inlaid with an opaque glass panel. The silhouette of a human figure was barely visible through the glass.

The human figure opened the glass door for a small crack, but didn't come out. The elf had a hushed conversation with whoever was behind the door, then turned around and came back to Greco.

Something in the posture of the small creature was off, it carried its shoulder and arm in a strange way, as if they were stiff.

Nicholas drew in a sharp breath, he'd seen an elf with a similar injury not so long ago, but where? Angry with himself he shook his head. His power of observation was still strong, but his memory was beginning to desert him, maybe it was time to think about retirement or an apprentice.

The elf had reached him. 'Master bes sorry, master's health do not permit to receive visitors,' the small creature twittered, shuffling its feet, then shut the door in Nicholas' face so quick he had to step back not to be caught between the door leaf and the door jamb.

He blinked, stared at the door for several moments, fixing the elf firmly in his mind, before he stepped back into the narrow alley. So, Alexander Carrington didn't want to talk to him. That wasn't exactly surprising, given how reclusive the man was rumoured to be, but also led to the interesting question of was he was hiding something. Nicholas looked around, there was a small bistro only two houses away from Carrington's house, but on the opposite side of the street.

A smile flickered across his face. That was just the place he needed to interrogate the locals about the elusive Mr Carrington, without them noticing, of course.

Fifteen minutes later he sat at the bar, a milky-white mixture of _Pastis _and iced water in front of him, and had an amicable chat with the bartender and a few regular patrons. Another two hours, a few rounds of that devilish brew and a spinning head later, he'd found out that none of his neighbours had ever seen the reclusive Mr Alexander Carrington.

'It's as if he doesn't live here at all,' one had said.

A toothless old man with grey bristles in his face had dismissed that with a wave of his hand. 'You're wrong, _andouille, _he's a vampire, I tell you, and only comes out at night!'

That had led to an animated discussion among the patrons of the bar, and Nicholas had used the opportunity to take his leave. The little he knew of Alexander Carrington made it unlikely that he'd got involved with vampires. It was more likely he'd set up the house in Paris as a ruse to distract any prying eyes from his real whereabouts, wherever that was.

Although it was unusual, to say the least, it wasn't exactly unheard of, however, usually the type of people that employed this ruse had an easily identifiable reason for it. Nicholas' stomach churned not only from too much alcohol as he thought of the possible motives for such a move on Carrington's side.

He didn't like it one bit. His gut signalled danger and that this house hid far more than he could fathom at this time, but he'd be damned if he knew from which direction the danger was coming or what Carrington was hiding.

* * *

_ **The Rectory, June 3rd 2008** _

A Sobering-Up Potion, provided by his amused wife, and a short nap had him alert enough for the last meeting with Goldstein and Mr Potter in the late afternoon. For once Mrs Potter didn't join them.

Mr Potter excused her. 'Healer Payne confined Daphne to bedrest, all this stress isn't good for her or the baby.' A shadow flickered across his face. 'Anthony had a last talk to Daphne this afternoon, and I think she's far calmer and ready for tomorrow, given the good news he brought.'

Nicholas glanced at Goldstein with raised eyebrows. 'Is that so?

Goldstein nodded. 'I got the result of the examination of the condom today. It's just as we expected: they match with the DNA samples we tricked Williams into providing. I can't wait to have the bastard in the witness box.I think he was the one that likely killed Ginny in a fit of jealousy when her other lover turned up.'

He rubbed his hand with an evil grin. 'I've also had a good look at the final autopsy report. As we suspected Ginny wasn't killed by a Blasting Hex, her chest showed no evidence of being impacted by the force of such a strong spell. She had a small bump at the back of her head that might have been caused by Daphne dropping her in the entrance hall of the house.' His face sobered. 'She didn't, however, have an easy death, she was throttled to death, and the scratch marks on her throat indicated she fought for her life. She even might have been successful, hadn't she been under pain relief potions. The dose she'd taken was likely enough to eventually knock out a troll, the report states.'

Nicholas thought about that for a moment, then asked, 'Any other DNA available, like under her fingernails?'

Goldstein nodded again. 'Yes, however they still haven't managed to separate her DNA from what they found under her fingernails, but they are working on it, no ETA on it though, and no guarantee that it will be possible.'

Mr Potter's face became grim. 'Let's hope the results will come back tomorrow morning. I agree with Anthony, I have no doubt they'll match Williams' DNA. Ginny didn't deserve a death like that, no matter how much she got on my nerves. I hope you'll nail the bastard to the wall tomorrow, Anthony.'

'You can count on me, Harry,' Goldstein said.

_t.b.c._


	36. Chapter 36

_ **The Ministry of Magic, June 4th 2008** _

Harry's stomach roiled as he re-entered level ten with Daphne on Wednesday morning; at least it was time for them to go on the offensive as Anthony would start presenting the defences case. The corridor in front of the courtroom was again crowded, and they braced themselves for the expected barrage of hostile insults hurled at Daphne, although they had noticeably decreased, compared to the first day of the trial. Could it be the revelations brought to light thus far had people thinking, at least a few of them?

He tightened his grip around his wife's shoulders and led her into the comparatively quiet haven of the warded off area in front of the courtroom. The witnesses Anthony had summoned for that day were already there: an Unspeakable, his face obscured by the hood of his robes, Dean Thomas, their old friend Raymond from Crystal Fairy, and Williams and Zabini. The other witnesses, namely Greco and Arthur Weasley, would attend the trial, anyway. It was quite a number, but Anthony had told them yesterday he'd not yet made up his mind if it was going to be necessary to hear all the witnesses, he'd play it by ear, depending on how the case developed and what sleight of hand Roper tried to pull.

Harry let out a pent up breath at the sight of Zabini. He'd half expected that Zabini would refuse to appear and make a run for it. He was a Pureblood, after all, it was likely he knew that a place like _Stinchcombe Hall _had house elves who sensed the coming and going of everyone in that place and would tell their owner if asked. From the corner of his eye he watched the dark-skinned man sitting on the bench next to the door of the courtroom, his legs crossed, a bored expression on his face, and his expensive robes of Acromantula silk impeccable. Nothing in his posture betrayed that he suspected they knew he had been there around the time Ginny died.

Was this a good sign or a bad? The palms of his hands became moist. Could Ginny's lover really be that calm if he'd found Ginny's dead body that day, or, even worse, had killed her himself? What if they'd drawn the wrong conclusions and the visitor in the morning hadn't been Zabini? Or was he just like all Purebloods, and the thought that a house elf might give him away never occurred to him?

The arrival of the Weasley clan interrupted his thoughts, seconds later the doors to the courtroom opened, and like two days before he led Daphne to her place and then sat down right behind her, in the space next to Justin and Lisa.

Susan opened the trial, and Anthony stood up.

'Your Honours, today the defence is going to prove beyond all doubt that Daphne Isabelle Potter didn't kill Ginevra Weasley. We're going to prove that at the time of Ms Weasley's death the accused was still sound asleep in her home. We're also going to prove that contrary to the claims of the prosecution the accused never used a Blasting Hex on the victim. Lastly, we're going to prove the victim had at least two visitors _after _the accused left, and both of them had a motive to kill the victim.'

The noise level in the courtroom rose sharply at his last words.

Harry cast a surreptitious look at Williams and Zabini.

Williams had a slight sheen of sweat on his upper lip, and he squirmed in his seat. Zabini, however, still looked calm, bored even.

Anthony moved back to his desk, picked up a sheet of parchment, and turned to the judge's table. 'Your Honours, this is the point when the accused is supposed to offer her statement under Veritaserum to refute the claims of the prosecution. Unfortunately, this is not practicable for the accused in this case, due to her condition.' He held out the sheet of parchment for Susan to take it. 'The defence introduces piece of evidence D two, a written and sealed statement from Mrs Potter's healer at St Mungo's that she's not able to take Veritaserum, due to her pregnancy.'

That caused an uproar in the courtroom. Susan banged her gavel to no effect, while Roper screamed over the hubbub, 'The accused planned it that way to avoid a statement under Veritaserum.'

'Objection!' Anthony's thundering voice quieted down the audience. 'Once again the prosecution is relying solely on conjecture.'

'Objection sustained,' Susan said. 'Madam Roper, you've been warned before, repeatedly actually. The next time you interrupt the defence with an irrational or spurious objection the court will fine you one hundred Galleons for contempt of court, any repeat performances after that will result in each fine escalating, do I make myself clear?'

Shouts of protest rang through the courtroom, while Roper turned crimson and nodded once.

'The same goes for every heckler in the visitors gallery, do not push me on this, you will not like the outcome,' Susan said in a stern voice and banged her gavel.

The angry voices died down, even though a lot of dark looks were still cast at Susan. She didn't pay them any heed, neither did she react to Warrington's repeated clearing of his throat to catch her attention, and turned to Daphne. 'Mrs Potter, even though your decision is understandable, your refusal to give your statement under Veritaserum has to be counted against you by the court, according to the rules of procedure for criminal trials.'

Daphne stood up to speak in this trial for the first time. 'Your Honour, I'm well aware of the repercussions of my decision. However, I've longed for too many years to count to have a baby, and there's no way I'm going to endanger my child by taking a potion this early in my pregnancy. If that means endangering my case, so mote it be.'

Her words rang through the silent courtroom; she turned her head and gave Harry a short loving smile over her shoulder.

His heart swelled with love and pride for his wife until he thought he'd burst, and he couldn't help but reciprocate her smile with a broad one of his own, which caused a lot of whispers in the courtroom.

Daphne turned back to Susan. 'That notwithstanding, I'm prepared to give my statement today and confirm it with an oath on my magic.'

'As is within the law,' Susan said with a nod and motioned Daphne to take a seat in the witness box.

Daphne held out her hand to Anthony. 'Your wand, please.'

Anthony gave her his wand.

She grasped it in both hands and held it upright. 'I, Daphne Isabella Potter, swear on my magic that every word of the statement I will give today in front of this court is true. So mote it be.' Silvery mist shot out of the tip of Anthony's wand and surrounded her for a moment.

The courtroom became dead silent.

Anthony waited until Daphne had sat down. 'Mrs Potter, did you kill Ginevra Molly Weasley?'

'No, I didn't.'

Daphne's steady voice rang through the courtroom loud and clear.

Excited murmurs of the audience followed and died down when Anthony opened his mouth to ask his next question.

'Mrs Potter, will you tell us with your own words about your relationship with the late Ms Weasley?'

Daphne took a deep breath and nodded. 'Ginny was the ex-girlfriend of my husband, he broke up with her to marry me. That made us something akin to natural enemies, I guess. As a result, Ginny never missed an opportunity trying to mess around with Harry's and my marriage. She -'

Molly Weasley's furious voice interrupted her. 'This is a damned lie, you bitch!' She had sprung to her feet, her face crimson, and her wand at the ready to hex Daphne into oblivion.

Arthur grabbed her arm, pulled her back to her seat and yanked the wand out of her grasp, all the while talking to her in a hushed voice.

Behind Harry, Bill and Ron sighed.

'This isn't going to end well,' Justin muttered to no-one in particular.

Harry grimaced, caught his friend's eye and nodded before he returned his attention to Molly and Arthur. It seemed Arthur had things well in hand, Molly showed no signs that she was going to interfere any further with Daphne's statement, even though she still looked like she wanted Daphne to be incinerated on the spot.

Daphne didn't so much as flinch under her glare. Instead, she met Molly's furious eyes with a lot of compassion in her own. 'I wish it was.' She sighed. 'It started on my wedding day. I'd gone up to my room to change out of my wedding dress, and she followed me and told me I'd never have a chance with Harry. I'll remember her words as long as I live, there was a perverted sort of truth to them. Because of my insecurities about Harry's and my situation back then they had a strong impact on me and almost destroyed my marriage right from the beginning.'

Her eyes never turned away from Molly. 'Whenever he touches you, whenever he kisses you, and whenever he sleeps with you he'll be thinking of me, those were her words. She said them with such conviction and passion that young and naïve as I was, I believed her, at least at first I did.'

A round of murmurs went through the courtroom, yet this time Daphne got a lot of sympathetic looks, especially from the women present.

'Harry and I became close soon after our marriage, yet I didn't dare to believe in the sincerity of his feelings for me because of Ginny's cruel taunts on our wedding day. It stayed like that until our first Christmas together. Harry and I spent Christmas Day with the Weasleys. We'd already arrived at _The Burrow_ when we heard that Ginny was also there, with her new husband, the first of quite a number to follow. She lost no time trying to manipulate me once again. At one point after dinner Harry left the room, and Ginny followed him. Hermione urged me to go after them, to mark my territory, so to speak. However, I'd been brought up in the old Pureblood tradition that teaches the girls to look the other way when their husbands are… indiscreet, so I knew the game wasn't supposed to be played that way. Still, I left the room to get away from Hermione and her… well, nagging.' Daphne mouthed an apology to Hermione, picked up the glass next to her elbow and took a sip of water.

Almost all of their friends sniggered at that, and Padma and Susan shared a short side glance, while the corners of their mouths twitched.

'I walked into the kitchen just in time to see through the window how Ginny made a move on my husband. Suffice to say I didn't want to see more and turned around. Ginny came back into the kitchen a few moments later. She realised I'd seen her together with Harry and more or less told me she was Harry's mistress. At first, I believed her and went out of the house for a walk to calm down. After a few minutes I met Harry, he seemed to be troubled and agitated, which confirmed Ginny's claim. He noticed that something was wrong with me; in spite of his own troubles he was so sweet and caring towards me, and all of a sudden I realised that Ginny once again had tried to manipulate me again, and for the first time, it also occured to me that she was also trying to manipulate him as well. That day I made the decision to trust my husband until he proved unworthy of that trust. He never gave me reason to regret my decision.'

She turned her head and gave Harry one of these private smiles that were reserved for him, and his heart swelled until it felt as if it would burst out of his chest. Merlin, what had he done to deserve her? She was far too good for him, that much was sure.

Daphne focussed back on the judges in front of her. 'That was the last time I saw Ginny until the Veterans Ball. I can't say I was unhappy about that, and I have every reason to believe Harry shared my sentiment.'

He couldn't stop himself, he had to nod at that. The judges noticed his reaction with raised eyebrows, whereas the audience once again resorted to whispers and hisses. Molly Weasley, however, looked at him with big, reproachful eyes, as if he had betrayed her.

'Let's jump to the night of the Veterans Ball, Mrs Potter. What happened there between you and Ms Weasley?' Anthony asked over the ongoing whispers.

Daphne sighed and pushed a strand of hair away from her face. 'We had barely arrived when Hermione told us that Ginny had returned to England and was also there that night. I had no illusions about what was going to happen next: she'd be all over Harry the second she saw him. As the female guest of honour, she was at our table. Dinner was uncomfortable, to say the least. Ginny alternated between trying to bewitch Harry and sending death glares at me. It didn't turn out as she had planned.' A small, yet triumphant smile appeared around her mouth. 'Harry wasn't at all inclined to play along, and apart from offering her a greeting, essentially ignored her.'

Once again, the excited whispers of the audience interrupted Daphne's statement.

'You can't really blame them after all these lies in the _Daily Prophet,'_ Hermione said behind Harry. Someone, most likely Ron, grunted in response..

A sharp look from Susan was enough to restore order in the courtroom, apparently her threat from the beginning of the trial this morning was still at the forefront of most people's minds, very few wizards or witches had hundred Galleons to spare for fines.

'Ginny got her moment of triumph when the dancing began. She somehow manipulated Harry into dancing the couple's dance with her, and had every intention to monopolise him for the rest of the night. Again, Harry didn't act as she expected. He slipped away and asked me to join him for a walk in the gardens.'

She cast him a short, sweet smile, and the corners of his mouth turned up in response.

Daphne returned her eyes to the panel of judges. 'Harry is a person of public interest, so he and by extension I, live under the magnifying glass created by the curiosity of the wizarding world. We made a pact right at the beginning of our marriage that we'd never air our dirty laundry in the open. Harry knew I was irritated by his behaviour, which was completely out of character for him, I might add, and used the first opportunity he got to explain his actions and clear the air between us in private.' She let out a mirthless chuckle. 'In hindsight, it's rather hilarious, albeit I didn't think of it like that when it happened. Ginny tried to make her way back to Harry, he saw her coming, so he grabbed my hand, and we literally ran away from her.'

Laughter rang through the courtroom.

'When Harry and I returned to the ballroom, Ginny waylaid us once more. Harry chased her away with a scathing remark. Of course, Ginny put the blame for that on me. When we passed her, she told me she'd get back at me for that. Despite that, she kept away from Harry for the rest of the night. I thought I'd seen the last of her that night, but unfortunately I was wrong.' She took a deep breath.

'We literally ran into each other at the door of the lady's room. The moment she recognised me, she glared at me, stepped into my personal space and said, _I warned you to stay away from what isn't yours, Greengrass._'

She paused and grimaced. 'I'm not proud of my reaction to that. However, she provoked me and I was not feeling well that night, so I reacted in a much harsher manner to her taunts than was strictly necessary. I told her she was delusional, she wasn't in the position to keep me away from my husband, and that Harry hadn't been hers since the day he broke up with her. To really drive my point home, I grabbed her by the upper arms. Hard. I'm ashamed to admit my fingernails dug marks into her flesh, and I enjoyed it, I was so angry, this woman had been trying to undermine my marriage since it began and I'd had enough. I bent towards her and told her to stay away from my husband, or it would be the last thing she did.'

The audience broke out into gasps and loud exclamations, the reporters in the courtroom almost scribbled their fingers off, and a smile of triumph appeared on Roper's face.

Harry let out a deep sigh. The reaction to Daphne's admission was understandable. How he wished she didn't have to admit to that moment of weakness! There was no saying how the panel of judges would take it when they had to make their final vote. Yet, there was no way around it, Daphne had taken a magical oath to tell the truth in front of the court. Any attempt of circumvention might have disastrous results neither of them did want to find out.

'What did you mean by that?' Anthony asked when Susan had restored order.

Daphne gave a rather unladylike and helpless shrug with her shoulder. 'Honestly, I have no idea. At that moment, I just wanted to scare her away from Harry. Truthfully I would've probably been happy to leave some scratch marks on her face, too, I remember that I thought about that, but I managed to get a grip on myself before it elevated into a cat fight.'

'Let's skip to the alleged day of Ms Weasley's death, Mrs Potter,' Anthony said moving across the room casually as if this was just a friendly chat between friends. 'We already heard the prosecution claims that you killed Ms Weasley in her bedroom with a Banishing Hex in the late afternoon of the eighteenth of May. You admitted during your interrogation at the Auror Department to have been at _Stinchcombe Hall _around the time that the prosecution claims to be the time of death of the victim. Mrs Potter, tell us what really happened.'

For the second time that day the courtroom became dead silent.

'It was the Monday after the promotional party. I had treated myself to a day at Lavender's Beauty Parlour as a reward for my hard work, and was just relaxing after a massage when Pansy McLaggen-Parkinson came into the room. It turned out she'd just seen Harry and Ginny as they talked in the park and couldn't wait to tell me what she assumed had to be bad news for me. Well, she was wrong,' Daphne said in a dry voice. 'Harry and I were both aware of Ginny's game, we had talked about her, and I was left in no uncertain term of his feelings for me and his fidelity, so Pansy's malicious gossip failed to have the result she desired.'

Some chuckles could be heard from the audience.

Daphne gave Harry another sidewards smile. 'I know my husband, if he has a flaw… it's his reluctance to hurt those he perceives his friends… funnily enough it's also one of his most endearing traits. He still thought of Ginny as a friend, albeit a rather distant one. No matter how much she got on his nerves, he never would've snubbed her if she greeted him. With that knowledge it was easy for me not to react to Pansy's taunts.'

The remnants of the soft smile she'd given him vanished, she set her jaw in a grim line, and her voice became hard. 'Instead it was becoming increasingly obvious that if we wanted to stop Ginny's intrusions into our marriage, then it would be up to me to show Ginny her place.'

Her words hung in the air. Each eye in the courtroom was turned on her, and nobody said a word.

'The beauty parlour wasn't exactly the place to think about how to do that. When I returned home, I decided to take a stroll and clear my head.' Daphne's voice was calm and controlled again. 'There's a hiking track that borders our estate and leads from there through the meadows towards the border of _Stinchcombe Hall. _That property is surrounded by a ha-ha, a deep ditch to keep the cattle and deer out of the park. Humans, however, can cross the ha-ha by using one of the turrets that were built for that purpose and as lookouts onto the landscape. I decided to take a break and climbed up the steps that led into one of the turrets.'

She straightened and met the judge's eyes fair and square. 'That's how I found her, sitting in the turret, her back turned to me. The opportunity was too good to let it pass. I'd been feeling unwell for quite some time back then, and Ginny had added to that with her shenanigans. Albeit I didn't know it yet, I was in the very early stages of my pregnancy and probably cranky and unreasonable because of that. I wanted payback, I wanted to humiliate her like she had humiliated me and I wanted her to keep her nose out of my marriage. So, I petrified her with a spell to her back, disarmed her, and levitated her towards the house, she may have accidentally hit a couple of the walls on the way down, but I doubt she'd have even bruised from those couple of knocks. Once there, I dumped her onto the carpet in the entrance hall and told her that Harry and I knew everything about her scheme to get at Harry's gold. I told her we had evidence she'd betrayed Harry while she was supposed to be with him and continued her affair with her lover during her marriages. I threatened we'd go public with what we knew and destroy her reputation thoroughly, so she never again would be able to show her face in the magical society, no matter where in the world she lived. Finally, I told her we had a private investigator at hand we'd sic on her to dig up even more dirt. Until then, she'd been furious, her face was red and she'd glared at me all the time. At my last words, she turned ashen. When I demanded of her to leave us alone from now on, she agreed. In return, I promised not to use the evidence we had against her. I told our head elf to lift the Petrification Spell, but not before I was well away, and left while she was still lying on the floor. That was the last time I saw her.'

The piercing scream of a woman broke the silence that hung in the courtroom after Daphne's words.

'You damnable bitch! Isn't it enough you killed my little girl? Why do you have to dance on her grave and spit on her reputation on top of that?'

Molly Weasley, her face an unhealthy purple colour, had sprung to her feet and had attempted to advance on Daphne.

'Molly, stop it, you don't know what you're doing!'

'Let go of me, Arthur!' Molly turned around, brushed her husband's hand off her arm, and pushed him away from her. He stumbled and fell to the ground.

'If she thinks she can get away with this, she's got another thing coming, I'm going to teach that whore a lesson she won't forget!' She whirled around, swooped down on Arthur and plucked her wand from her husband's groping hand. She straightened, her wand was in her hand and pointed at Daphne so fast none of the Aurors in the room had the reflexes to react in time.

'EXPELLIARMUS!'

The wand shot out of Molly's grasp, she staggered backwards, stumbled over Arthur, who was still trying to pick himself up off the floor, and crashed to the ground.

The courtroom exploded into noise.

Harry jumped up and caught the wand sailing towards him with his left hand. His eyes searched for Daphne.

She was pale, yet composed, nothing in her demeanour let on if she was scared by Molly's attack. As if she felt his glance on herself, she turned her head around and gave him a faint smile. 'I'm alright, love,' she mouthed through the ongoing ruckus in the room Susan had not yet managed to calm down.

He let out the breath he'd been holding and trained his eyes on Molly once again. Even though she was temporarily out of commission and had lost her wand, he'd never underestimate her. She was a tiger-mum who'd lost her cub and lashed out at anyone as hard as she could in her grief, without another thought of the consequences. They would all be safer if she didn't get her wand back, so he tossed it to Bill, who rolled his eyes with a "gee thanks look" and pocketed it.

Molly just got back to her feet, assisted by Arthur. Her eyes still glared at Daphne with a burning hatred, and she struggled against Arthur's grip on her arms.

'I told you, let go of me, Arthur,' she screamed.

The courtroom fell silent, the audience and even the judges frozen by the drama.

Arthur tightened his grip around Molly's arms. 'Molly, you have no idea what you're doing… Molly!... MOLLY! EVERY WORD DAPHNE SAID ABOUT GINNY'S PLANS WITH HARRY IS TRUE!'

She slacked in his arms, all colour drained off her face. 'Not you, too, Arthur!'

'Oh Molly, I wish I could have spared you this. I heard them, Ginny and her lover, as they talked about their plans with Harry in our orchard, and developed a plan that Ginny should marry a couple of rich men and get divorced soon after, one night a couple of days after Harry and Daphne's wedding. In all my life I never was so ashamed of one of my children.'

Molly slumped against him, she buried her face in his chest, and her shoulders quivered.

Arthur put an arm around her and led her towards her seat, where he cast a Privacy Charm around them and continued comforting his distraught wife.

Susan took a deep breath, as if awakening out of a nightmare. She motioned towards Anthony. 'Please, continue with the statement of the accused, Mr Goldstein.'

'We're almost through, Your Honour,' Anthony replied. He walked to the small table that held the evidence, picked up a wand and showed it to Daphne. 'Is this your wand, Mrs Potter?'

'Yes, that is the wand that chose me at Ollivander's in August ninety-one, the year I started at Hogwarts.'

Anthony turned to the judge's table. 'The defence introduces this wand, which the accused identified as hers, as piece of evidence D three, a piece of evidence that the defence notes the prosecution failed to enter themselves, one wonders why that might be.' He spun back to Daphne. 'Mrs Potter, if I'll perform Priori Incantatem on this wand, which spells will it show for, let's say the last twenty spells?'

'In reverse order?'

Anthony nodded.

Daphne scrunched up her nose in thought. 'Madam Roper confiscated my wand around midnight on the day Ginny's body was found. You, Harry and I spent the afternoon preparing for my arrest, because we anticipated that happening after Molly accused me of Ginny's murder, so I didn't use my wand then. Before that, Harry and I had a long talk about what had happened, without any need for me to use my wand, either. I spent the morning at _The Burrow, _giving my support to the Weasleys. I'm sure I used my wand there a couple of times to perform household spells, such as lighting the stove, summoning mugs and tea, just simple things I didn't think about twice. I remember I cast a Glamour Charm on me before I left our bedroom that morning to talk to Director McLean, and right before that a Cleaning Charm on my body and teeth because I was in a hurry and had no time for my usual morning routine.'

She paused, and her face pinked in a rather becoming way.

'Harry and I fooled around somewhat the night before, so you'll find a couple of Tickling Charms and Tripping Hexes.'

That caused some raised eyebrows, but also soft laughter in the courtroom.

Justin bent towards Harry. 'Just out of curiosity, mate, who won?'

'Do you have to ask?'

'No, not really. Daphne is a powerful witch, but you're just putty in her hands,' Justin said with a chuckle.

'What comes next?' Anthony asked.

Daphne gulped. 'That has to be my encounter with Ginny. The Levitation Charm, the Disarming Spell and the Bodybind Curse, if I remember correctly. Before that, another Glamour Charm in the morning before I left the house.'

Without another word, Anthony turned to the judge's table and said, 'For the record, Your Honours. Priori Incantatem!'

A small, silvery flame appeared and vanished, Anthony repeated the spell a couple of times, and silvery mugs and bags of tea floated through the air, and a kettle settled down on burning flames.

The next two spells showed a pale image of Daphne's face and her body.

'That would have been the first spells you cast on Tuesday morning, right?'

Daphne nodded, her face showed traces of pink from the embarrassment she had to go through when her naked body shimmered into existence, albeit only for a few seconds.

'Priori Incantatem!' Anthony said and flicked Daphne's wand yet another time.

The silvery image of Harry, only clad in a pair of rather tight jeans, collapsed to the ground in a helpless heap of laughter.

The corners of Anthony's mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. However, his voice was calm when he repeated the spell a few times, and each time revealed a laughing Harry being caught either by a Tripping Hex or a Tickling Spell, much to the amusement of the audience.

The amusement faltered within an instant, however, as the image of a floating Ginny shimmered into existence. Daphne had held the Levitation Charm on her a rather long time, and they got a repetition of the walk from the turett up to the house. The next Reversal Spell came up with an image of a wand soaring towards Daphne, followed by an image of Ginny, as her arms and legs snapped to her side and she fell to the ground.

Anthony finished his examination of Daphne's wand when once again Daphne's face showed up. He handed the wand to Daphne.

Daphne took her wand into both hands. A content smile crept on her face, and she said, 'Lumos!'

A blinding light appeared at the tip of her wand that had quite a lot of people shield their eyes.

Daphne canceled the spell and handed her wand back to Anthony.

Anthony took the wand from her and gave it to the court scribe to be entered as evidence. He turned to Roper. 'Your witness.'

The witch got up, a feral gleam in her eyes, and stalked towards Daphne.

Harry dried the moist palms of his hands at the sides of his robes. Daphne had moved through Anthony's rehearsed questions with flying colours. Roper, however, would be looking for holes in Daphne's statement, and she'd be anything but gentle and respectful about that. No, she'd be trying to throw Daphne off guard, so her earlier statement would be regarded with a doubtful eye. Even though the fact Daphne still had her magic was a strong indicator she had told the truth, it was common knowledge that magical oaths could be circumvented.

Daphne was no fool, she had to be aware of this. His eyes never left his wife's face. She looked calm and collected, most likely her Occlumency shields were in full force. Merlin give she'd keep as cool as this during Roper's entire interrogation!

Roper regarded Daphne with a false smile on her lips. 'Congratulations on your pregnancy, Mrs Potter.'

Daphne inclined her head in thanks.

Roper leaned against the witness box. 'This surely is a big surprise for the magical world.' Her voice sounded as casual as her stance, mimicking Anthony's posture and cadence from earlier, as if she was having a friendly chat with Daphne. 'Afterall, you've been married for what? Ten years? I think by now it's an established fact in magical Britain that you had decided against children in favour of your company. Terribly sad for your husband, of course. He must've longed for a family of his own all his life, being an orphan and all.'

She leaned closer to Daphne, whose face was a stoney mask. 'It's rather convenient that you became pregnant the moment your husband's lost love returned home and became a threat to your marriage, don't you think so? Was it another of your little games to keep your husband in your clutches?'

Harry ground his teeth and took a deep breath. How dare Roper taunt Daphne with the pain of their unintentional childlessness they had suffered through for so many years? His eyes were glued to Daphne, willing her to stay strong.

Daphne's stoney face still didn't let on her feelings, at least not to those who didn't know her as well as Harry and his friends.

Behind him, Hermione groaned, and Fleur said something in French that sounded like an expletive.

'I don't think Harry's and my family planning is any of your business, Madam Roper,' Daphne said, her chin held high.

'That's where you're wrong, Mrs Potter. It seems you forgot you are at court, and it is part of this trial to find out your motivations to kill Ginevra Weasley. We've already established that she was a threat to your marriage. In this light -'

Anthony shot to his feet. 'Objection! The prosecution is drawing conclusions that are the prerogative of the court.'

'Objection sustained,' Susan said with a bang of her gavel. 'The prosecution will have time enough to present their conclusions in their summation.'

Some colour shot into Roper's cheeks, there was an angry gleam in her eyes when she addressed the judges. 'Your Honours, it's the aim of the prosecution to show the accused not only had an opportunity, but also a strong motive to kill the victim. In that light the surprising pregnancy of the accused is to be regarded as important circumstantial evidence. We have to know how this pregnancy came about.'

'One would think in the usual way,' Anthony said in a low, but carrying voice.

That caused an uproarious laughter in the courtroom.

Susan banged her gavel. 'Mr Goldstein, please refrain from making comments out of turn, even if you do make a valid point.' The corners of her mouth twitched.

'That was not what I meant.' Roper glared at Anthony.

'In that case the court advises the prosecution to phrase their questions more precisely,' Susan said.

The colour on Roper's cheeks intensified, she took a deep breath and turned back to Daphne. 'Mrs Potter, why this pregnancy right now, was it in response to your husband's girlfriend returning to England?'

'I've been told babies have a way to resist planning. They turn up, or they don't. Believe me, my husband and I are as surprised about this pregnancy as anyone, probably even more so,' Daphne said. Albeit her voice sounded light, the tendons of her neck stood out, and she held her shoulders in an unnatural, stiff posture, all signs that betrayed how much Roper had got to her.

Harry clenched his fists. Why was Roper fixated on this, why didn't she get on to another point? Even though the happiness about her pregnancy had made up for all their years of dashed hopes for a family, the years of pain were hard to forget, especially for Daphne, who always had blamed herself for their childlessness.

Ropers glance became calculating. 'Mrs Potter, I'm not a healer, but even I know how unlikely it is for a couple to remain childless for ten years - as long as the witch didn't take means to counteract a pregnancy. You'll have to come up with a better explanation. Right now it still looks to me that you never wanted children, but thought twice about that when Ginevra Weasley turned up again. There's nothing about having blackmail material in the form of children if your husband is having stray thoughts, isn't it?'

Daphne startled, her eyes flashed at Roper. 'How dare you accusing me of stooping so low? I'd never use a child of mine for my own means!'

'Then why did you become pregnant right now, Mrs Potter?' Roper was as relentless as a terrier after a rat. 'You'll have to give us a better explanation.'

Red spots appeared on Daphne's cheekbones, she gripped her hands around the armrests of her seat until the knuckles stood out white, and sent a wide-eyed look to Harry.

A wave of heat shot through his body. Damn that Roper bitch! Why did she have to stick her nose into things that were none of her business and had little to do with the trial? All she seemed to want to do is drag their most painful secrets into the open. He took a calming breath and gave Daphne a nod to let her know whatever she decided to reveal, it was alright with him. They'd deal with the repercussions later, when she was free.

Daphne let out a deep breath. When she spoke, her voice was calm once again and betrayed nothing of her pain, albeit her dark, dull eyes showed how much Roper got at her.

Harry's jaw clenched. Roper had just made things considerably more painful for herself, he could forgive people for tresspasses against himself, but if they attacked Daphne, then he'd make them bleed. He'd start tearing Roper down when this fiasco was over.

'Just like most couples, Harry and I dreamt about having a family, albeit we decided to wait until we had finished our studies. When we'd finally come to that point, I had a… potions accident at Crystal Fairy. I almost died. The treatment I got to counteract the poisoning I had suffered impacted my ability to conceive. There was no treatment against infertility available in the magical world, so my husband and I supported research into that topic. I think I tried at least a dozen of newly developed treatments, until we became resigned to the fact that we'd never have children of our own. That I became pregnant after we had lost all hope is short of a miracle.'

Murmurs shot up in the courtroom, Daphne got a lot of sympathetic glances. Even more amazing, for the first time since the beginning of the trial Roper got hostile remarks and looks from the majority of the onlookers.

Harry held his breath. Was this the change in public opinion they had hoped for? While the final verdict was up to the judges, they all were members of the Wizengamot, too. Especially slimy cockroaches like Warrington and Smith would think twice before uttering a verdict that went straight against public sympathies.

Roper didn't notice, her focus was on Daphne like that of the cat in front of the mousehole. 'My, my, Mrs Potter. Just like your husband you have a talent for touching tales. I'm afraid your word alone is not enough, especially since you just gave another reason why your husband was about to leave you. No man wants to be saddled with a barren wife.'

Daphne turned as white as a sheet.

Roper had not yet ended her malicious speech when Harry already pulled out his wand and cast his Patronus.

'What are you doing there, Mr Potter?' Susan asked through the exclamations of awe the silvery stag inspired, and banged her gavel.

'Well, Madam Roper asked for evidence for my wife's claims. I just made sure she'll get it without any further delay.'

Anthony turned around and smirked at him. Harry replied with a wink and bent forward to give his message to Prongs.

'Objection!' Roper screeched. 'Your Honour, this is a flagrant disregard of court procedure.'

'Objection overruled,' Susan said with another bang of her gavel. 'The prosecution knows that the defense has the right to counteract any new aspect the prosecution might bring up immediately, and is allowed to send messengers to obtain additional evidence. While this usually is done by a paralegal, I fail to see why employing a Messenger Patronus should be a violation of protocol.'

Roper was furious and looked as if she was about to give a hot reply. A slight cough from her brother, who once again had taken a seat behind the prosecution, made her reconsider. She took a deep breath, and stalked towards the small table that held the evidence. She picked up the stack of photographs that showed Harry in Ginny's company and the anonymous letter to the .E., whirled around, and almost shoved both into Daphne's face.

'Mrs Potter, your husband already admitted to having met with Ms Weasley whenever he was in the U.S.A., however, what he didn't mention - probably didn't know - is the fact that you were well aware of those clandestine meetings. Isn't it true you were informed of each meeting by a photograph of the secret couple being sent to you?'

'Yes, that's true. However, your information isn't quite correct. Harry knows about the photos being sent to me anonymously after his accidental meetings with Ginny. We're both sure she was behind that, another of her sick little games, you know.' Daphne's reply was calm and collected. 'As my husband already pointed out, not a single one of these photos contains anything incriminating, they were all taken at public places, in full view of the public, I might add. Quite a lot of them are cutouts from photos that were taken of my husband and a larger number of people, while Ginny just happened to be a member of the party. I didn't miss that when I received the photos, so they failed to have the desired effect on me.'

At that moment the doors of the courtroom opened and Healer Payne strolled into the room. He walked up to the judge's table. 'I've been summoned to give my statement in the case of Mrs Daphne Potter.'

Susan made a gesture to Anthony. 'Your witness.'

Anthony acknowledged that with a nod and glanced at Roper. 'Is the prosecution finished with questioning the accused?'

'No more questions at this time,' Roper answered, a pinched expression on her face.

Once more Anthony handed his wand to Daphne, once more the bright light of her spell blinded the audience.

Daphne got up and went back to her place. She held herself very straight, nothing in her demeanour or looks betrayed how strenuous this had been for her. Harry, however, saw behind her glamour charms, and his stomach gave an uncomfortable leap at the paleness of her cheeks. One way or another, he'd make sure she got the rest and peace of mind she so obviously needed as soon as this was over. Either she'd leave the courtroom exonerated and as a free woman, or Mipsy, who was at her post next to Daphne, would Apparate her to safety.

Anthony waited until Daphne had settled down in her place, then turned to Healer Payne with an inviting motion towards the witness box. 'If you please, Healer Payne.'

However, the healer didn't take a seat in the witness box immediately. Instead, he looked at Daphne. 'Mrs Potter, do you release me from my oath of confidentiality as a healer pertaining to the treatment you received at St Mungo's five years ago, in August two thousand-three?'

'I do,' Daphne said.

'Very well.' Healer Payne sat down in the witness box.

'Healer Payne, do you agree to a statement under Veritaserum?' Anthony asked.

'Yes, I do.'

Anthony waited until the potion was administered. As soon as a slight slackening of Healer Payne's features indicated the potion had taken effect, he said, 'Healer Payne, in the light of Mrs Potter's pregnancy the reasons for her childlessness have become a topic of "interest" in this trial,' Anthony used his fingers in the time honoured way to denote quotation marks, all whilst his voice was dripping with sarcasm, clearly indicating what he thought of this line of questioning.

'While Mrs Potter claims her childlessness was unintentional and caused by the treatment she received after a potion accident a couple of years ago, the prosecution suspects that Mrs Potter used her rather recent pregnancy as a weapon to save a failing marriage. Can you please shed some light on the matter?'

Healer Payne crossed his legs. 'That I can.' Although the effect of the Veritaserum showed in his slightly halting pattern of speech, his furrowed eyebrows and focussed stare showed his concentration. 'Mrs Potter became my patient in August two thousand-three. She was admitted to St. Mungo's by Emergency Portkey after a potions accident. A first Diagnostic Spell showed she had extensive potion burns on her chest and hands, and was suffering from a severe poisoning. Although she had been administered a Bezoar right after the accident, her life hung by a thread. We were lucky we got a sample of the fatal potion and could begin our analysis immediately. Thirty minutes later, and Mrs Potter would've been beyond help.'

Quite a few visitors gave shocked and dismayed exclamations at that.

The palms of Harry's hands became moist. Even five years later the memory of that horrible day still unsettled him. He'd come so close to losing the biggest treasure he had -

The voice of the healer interrupted his thoughts.

'While we were able to help Mrs Potter, we couldn't save the foetus she was carrying. The ingredients we had to use to brew the antidote had abortive properties. Albeit I believe Mrs Potter would have lost the baby in any case. A second Diagnostic Spell showed that her pregnancy was still in a very early stage, four or five weeks along, maybe. With a poisoning as extensive as the one Mrs Potter had suffered I doubt the foetus would have survived, even if we had been able to give her a potion without abortive properties.'

'No!' Hermione's loud gasp disturbed the quietness of the courtroom.

Harry turned around and grabbed her hand that was balled into a fist in her lap. 'I'm sorry, Hermione, we never wanted you to find out.'

Tears welled up in her eyes. 'Why didn't you tell me?'

Susan cleared her throat.

'Later,' Harry mouthed to Hermione, gave her hand a final squeeze, and turned around.

Healer Payne's last statement earned Daphne a lot of sympathetic looks. Roper, however, made a face as if she had swallowed a toad of Umbridge-like dimensions.

'Were there additional repercussions of the antidote, beside the abortive properties?'

'Unfortunately, yes,' Healer Payne said with a nod. 'We knew right from the beginning that the antidote would influence Mrs Potter's fertility, albeit the extent was not yet foreseeable. We hoped for zero to minor repercussions, with the worst-case-scenario being that Mrs Potter would never conceive again.' He turned his head and smiled at Daphne. 'Well, Mrs Potter ended up somewhere in between, yet, the last five years have not been easy for her and her husband. I was the one who confirmed Mrs Potter's second pregnancy a few weeks ago. Mrs Potter had been struggling with nausea for quite some time, however, due to her problems conceiving she never thought that it would be due to pregnancy. I admit when she came to me for help it didn't occur to me, either. It wasn't until I had excluded all other possibilities that I cast the Diagnostic Spell for a pregnancy and hit the jackpot.' His smile became brighter. 'I've never seen a young couple as happy about the news as the Potters.'

'No more questions,' Anthony said, and looked towards Roper.

She also shook her head.

Anthony then called Harry once again into the witness stand. 'Mr Potter, the prosecution claims that your wife's failure to get pregnant were another reason for you to leave her in favour of Ginevra Weasley. Is that true?'

Harry turned his head towards Daphne, caught her eyes and didn't look away while he answered Anthony's question. 'That's another unfounded speculation of the prosecution. Our unintentional childlessness was the reason my wife offered me divorce a second time about two years ago. She somehow got it into her head that she owed me an heir and ought to step aside if she couldn't fulfill that duty.' He huffed. 'It was my opinion then and still is now that she was peddling a load of dragon dung! I think I made it pretty clear to her there and then what I thought about that nonsense. Why would I ever consent to leave her? I love her!'

As he ended, Daphne flashed him a blinding smile, albeit there was a suspicious sheen in her eyes.

'Thank you, no more questions.' Anthony's voice came from far away through the "aws" and "ohs" that rang through the courtroom.

Roper also declined, albeit she shot Harry a murderous glance, and he stepped out of the witness box and walked back to his seat.

Anthony stepped in front of the judge's table. Addressing the panel of judges and the audience likewise, he said, 'To corroborate Mrs Potter's statement that Ginevra Weasley still was alive when she left the premises of _Stinchcombe Hall _on Monday, the eighteenth of May, we call Unspeakable X into the witness box. He'll further clarify the reason of death, which wasn't a Blasting Hex, as the Prosecution claims.'

The dark-robed, hooded figure rose from the bench reserved for the witnesses and took a seat in the witness box. A round of amazed whispers went through the courtroom when Anthony asked for the assent to administer Veritaserum, and the Unspeakable consented.

'Unspeakable X, you performed a first _in situ _examination on the body of the victim, and then yet another one in the morgue of the Department of Mysteries. What -'

'How dare you! I never gave my consent to that!'

Once again Molly Weasley's screaming voice interrupted Anthony's interrogation and Anthony massaged his temples in obvious frustration. Molly once more stood in front of her seat, her hands balled into fists, and glared at the Unspeakable.

Roper shot to her feet. 'Objection, Your Honours. It seems the Department of Mysteries conducted the examination of the victim without the necessary consent of the closest relatives. In that case it is highly doubtful that his statement can be used in this trial.'

'Objection sustained,' Susan said with a bang of her gavel before Anthony could utter a word of protest. 'The defense will have to explain and prove that the Department of Mysteries acted with the consent of the closest relatives of the victim.' She directed a stern eye at Molly. 'Please, sit down, Mrs Weasley, and refrain from any more interruptions of the trial. The court is aware of how painful this must be for you, and is prepared to give you a certain amount of leeway because of that. However, I won't tolerate your outbursts indefinitely.'

Molly sat down, considerably chastised, and Anthony let out a sigh of long suffering and turned to the Unspeakable. 'Unspeakable X, on which grounds did you perform the examinations?'

'The first examination was on the grounds of the Auror Guidelines of Crime Scene Investigation. It states that in case of the discovery of a corpse a member of the Department of Mysteries should be called in for a first estimation of the approximate time and cause of death. An in depth examination of the body, especially an autopsy, is performed by my department if either the Auror Department or the family calls for it; the latter was the case here.'

'Which member of the family called for the autopsy?'

'That was Head Auror Ronald Weasley. His request was backed by Mr William Weasley, the heir of the Weasley clan, who acted as his father's proxy in this case.'

Anthony turned to Roper. 'Any questions?'

She sneered back at him. 'No, but the prosecution likes to point out that the claim of the witness that the autopsy was requested by the heir of the Weasley family isn't proved.'

'Oh, that can be rectified easily,' Anthony said. He turned to the Unspeakable and thanked him for his time, then said, 'The defense calls Mr William Weasley into the witness box.'

Bill got up and walked down the few steps to the floor of the courtroom and the witness box.

'Mr Weasley, is it true you gave permission to the Department of Mysteries to perform an autopsy on your sister's body?'

'That is true.'

'Please, elaborate.'

Bill's face was solemn, only a few creases around his eyes and the fleeting look he gave at Roper and Dawlish behind her betrayed how much he relished to show them up for the farce they had made of the investigation of Ginny's murder.

'My younger brother Ronald and I were at our parent's house to support them the day after Ginny's body had been discovered, when Deputy Head Auror Dawlish showed up. He told my parents that the murderess of my sister had been arrested, the Auror Department had finished their investigations of the crime scene and that the D.M.L.E. released the crime scene and the body. I happened to be sitting opposite my brother Ron at the time. By his reaction it was obvious to me that my brother was agitated by the news. Later when I asked him what was wrong, he told me there was no way the Auror Department could have finished all the investigations required by protocol in such a short span of time. He was adamant there had been no time for an autopsy of Ginny's body, and told me that if that omission wasn't corrected, it most likely would be impossible to ever find out the truth about Ginny's death.'

Dawlish huffed at that and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Harry shook his head. What a moron!

Bill gave him a small roll of his eyes that indicated he shared that sentiment. He turned his eyes back on Anthony, and his face became hard. 'From the way Deputy Head Auror Dawlish led the investigation it was plain to see he was, if you'll pardon the pun, as dead set as our mother to put the blame for Ginny's death on Daphne. My brothers and I, however, didn't share that opinion, and neither did our father. We all knew Ginny had lived a less than exemplary life. I hate to say this about my dead sister, but there was always the distinct possibility she'd be killed by one of her many lovers in a bout of jealousy, or get involved with the wrong sort of people. So Ronald and I approached our father and talked to him about Ron's concerns. We asked his permission to have a private autopsy conducted by the Department of Mysteries, and he gave it.'

'That's true.' Arthur's calm voice confirmed Bill's statement.

Anthony nodded his thanks towards Arthur, before returning his attention to Bill. 'Thank you, Mr Weasley, the defense has no more questions.' Anthony cocked an eyebrow at Roper, who shook her head.

'The objection of the prosecution is hereby dismissed,' Susan said with a bang of her gavel.

A pleased smile crossed Anthony's face. 'The defense once again calls Unspeakable X into the witness stand.'

The Unspeakable took his place.

'Unspeakable X, you already told us you examined the body twice. The first time was on the morning of the nineteenth, in Ms Weasley's bedroom, and the second time one day later, in the morgue of the Department of Mysteries. Were you able to deduce the time of Ms Weasley's death and the cause of her death from your examinations?'

'Yes, I was.'

The audience became restless at that.

'We all heard the prosecution's claims that Ms Weasley died in the late afternoon of the eighteenth, by a Blasting Hex cast at her by Mrs Potter, a Blasting Hex which flung her against the wall and caused her skull to crack. Did your investigations validate the claims of the prosecution? Or are they barking up the wrong wand tree?'

The Unspeakable cracked a smile at that last statement from Anthony, but it didn't show in his voice as he answered the question. 'No, my investigations didn't validate the claims of the prosecution.'

The Unspeakable's calm statement caused another uproar in the courtroom. Anthony waited with a small smile that indicated how pleased he was with the statement of the Unspeakable until Susan had restored order.

'Please, tell us what you found out.'

'My first examination unfortunately was cut short by Deputy Head Auror Dawlish'… highhandedness.' The Unspeakable glared into Dawlish' direction, who squirmed in his seat.

A grim smile appeared on Harry's lips. Very soon the Deputy Head Auror would be squirming even more, even if he had to give away every bit of influence and return every favour he'd accumulated in the ministry and the Wizengamot over the last years. Hell, he'd bend every Knut of the Potter fortune to root out and highlight every corrupt official in Magical Britain, even if he had to hire an army of private investigators to do it. His musings were interrupted as the Unspeakable continued with his evidence.

'I entered what was considered the primary crime scene at a quarter past ten in the morning of the nineteenth of May. Ms Weasley's body was on the floor, close to her bed, in a sitting position with her upper body leaned against the wall, as if she had slumped down there. As it is protocol, I first scanned the room with a Detection Spell for signs of strong magic, like for example a Blasting Hex or a Stunner, but also spells that can alter the surroundings, and an additional one for Dark Magic, like the Killing Curse. Both spells came up negative.'

This statement once again caused excited whispers in the visitors ranks, until Susan restored order.

Harry gave a small, satisfied grunt and leaned back in his seat. That was only just the beginning of today's attack of the defense. Anthony had made him privy to the contents of the investigations of the Department of Mysteries yesterday and given him a short outline of how he was going to conduct the questioning. The curious wizarding public would be in for a few more surprises today.

'I then cast a couple of spells on the room that enabled me to determine the temperature of the air surrounding the corpse. With another spell directed at the liver of the corpse I determined the temperature of that organ. A third spell, another also developed by my department after the war to improve magical crime scene investigation and draw level with Muggle science, put these two temperatures into relation with the average temperature of the human body. The result of that spell enabled me to determine the time of death rather accurately as having occurred between eight o'clock and eight thirty in the morning of the nineteenth of May.'

Anthony raised his voice above the noise the visitors made at that revelation. 'So you are sure Ms Weasley died on the nineteenth, more than twelve hours after the time the prosecution claimed?'

'Absolutely, I'd stake my reputation on it,' the Unspeakable said with a nod. 'The rate at which the human body cools down after death is determined by the temperature of the surrounding air. In theory, a witch or wizard familiar with that topic could potentially try to lead us astray by raising or lowering the room temperature magically, however, these altering spells require a lot of power, and the first Diagnostic Spells I cast on the room already showed that no strong magic had been used there recently. Besides that, the measurements of the room temperature and the liver temperature are not the only clues we rely on when determining the time of death. There's also the phenomenon of rigor mortis, that is the way how the muscles of the human body stiffen after death. It too follows certain rules, beginning with the muscles at the eyelids, the jaw and the small knuckles of the hands about two hours after death if the corpse is kept at room temperature. Ms Weasley's body showed first signs of stiffening of the muscles of the eyelids and the jaw. That confirmed the conclusion from the measurements of the temperature: Ms Weasley had died about two hours ago.'

The Unspeakable shot another withering look at Deputy Head Auror Dawlish. 'I was just about to inform the leading investigator about my findings, as protocol demanded, when Head Auror Dawlish blatantly disregarded protocol and ordered me out of the room. He absolutely refused to listen to me and accept my findings. I had no other option than to relent.' He let out a huff that conveyed much of the professional frustration he must've been suffering that morning from Dawlish' unprofessional conduct. 'Had he listened to me, he would've known that Ms Weasley died much later than he assumed. In that case, Mrs Potter most likely never would've got caught in the maelstrom of his so-called investigation, and we wouldn't be here today. As I see it, Deputy Head Auror Dawlish deliberately prevented and obstructed a proper investigation of the case in favour of a certain outcome.'

There was a short, incredulous silence, then hell broke loose.

Roper jumped to her feet, her face as red as a cooked crab, and shouted something towards the judge's table. However, her words were drowned out be the shouts of outrage and anger from the visitors seats.

Dawlish wrestled with two Aurors.

Had the moron been dumb enough to let himself being overcome by his anger because he had been thrown under a rampaging Hippogryff by the Unspeakable? It seemed so, only a fool would think that preventing an Unspeakable for doing their job wouldn't come back to bite you severely on the arse.

A nudge on his shoulder from Lisa diverted Harry from the actions of the foolish Deputy Head Auror. He turned his head to look at her and reciprocated to the smug smile on her face with a broad grin.

She bent towards him. 'It was about time!' she shouted over the ongoing noise.

He nodded, still grinning. After all the malicious lies reported about Daphne in the _Prophet, _lies that were all to readily lapped up by the still far too gullible wizarding public, it felt good to strike back. And according to Anthony's plan, this was only just the beginning. He looked at the young barrister.

Anthony stood next to the witness box. His hands shoved in the pockets of his robes, he waited for the mayhem to run its course. He didn't grin like Harry, but his posture betrayed his satisfaction with the reaction the last statement of the Unspeakable had caused.

At last, Susan, with the help of the Auror guards, restored order to the room. However, before she resumed the trial, she made good on her threat and inflicted hefty fees on the worst offenders. Nobody in the room dared to protest.

With a last, hard stare at the audience Susan turned to Roper, who still stood, her face a mask of fury. 'Did the prosecution want to raise an objection?'

'Indeed!' Roper's voice quivered with barely suppressed anger. 'The prosecution protests the last statement of the Unspeakable and demands that it will be withdrawn from the trial record. The Unspeakable uttered his personal opinion that in no way pertains to the investigations of the Department of Mysteries.'

Susan glanced towards Anthony.

'I don't concur, Your Honour. The Unspeakable pointed out a major failure in the investigations of the D.M.L.E. and the adverse consequences it had on the whole case of the D.M.L.E., in particular to the conclusions they drew about the alleged perpetrator of the crime. I'd like to remind the court that _Deputy Head Auror _Dawlish already admitted to that incredible violation of the rules of crime scene investigation in his statement in front of this court two days ago. In that light the Unspeakable did nothing else than to inform the court of the conclusions he had drawn from the investigation of evidence presented to him.'

Susan looked at the other judges at the table and raised a Privacy Ward around them.

Harry watched the heated discussion with bated breath. Warrington already exerted control about Ogden with whatever questionable means on Monday. Had he used the two days since then to gain control over one of the other judges, too? He'd been especially hard on Carmichael, Merlin give the man hadn't caved in to whatever threats Warrington made. His eyes swerved to the wizard in question.

The man squirmed in his seat, while Warrington leaned into him and talked into his ear in what seemed to be a low voice. Carmichael paled, swallowed hard, and gave a faint nod. He said something to Susan, albeit he didn't look her in the eyes.

Susan froze. She gave Carmichael an incredulous look and seemed to be at the verge of a hot reply. However, she snapped her mouth shut when Padma put a hand on her arm and shook her head. Instead, she levelled a look at Warrington that made the visitors stick their heads together and talk in hushed voices.

Harry's stomach dropped and the palms of his hands became sweaty. It appeared that the majority of the judges just had turned against Daphne. Now only Susan, Padma and Orphington remained for the conflicting vote Anthony's strategy aimed at, and by the looks of it, Padma already was under pressure, too. That left only Susan and Orphington. Would they withstand Warrington?

'Suzy's on the warpath,' Justin said with undisguised glee in his voice. 'His line will be extinct when she's finished with Warrington. The idiot has no idea what a horrendous dragon he just tickled with his obviously successful attempt to blackmail Carmichael into succumbing to Geoffrey Roper's agenda.'

Harry's head jerked towards him. 'What do you mean by that?'

Justin's eyes were still on his former housemate. 'I know Suzy, we grew up together in Hufflepuff, remember? She's as stubborn as anyone I've ever met when she's made her mind up, including you, in addition she's absolutely incorruptible too. She'd rather die than give in to Warrington's pressure. Even better, she despises corruption, and that was as blatant a display as I've ever seen. Smith is at least being discreet for him, Suzy's on Warrington's scent now, and she won't rest until she's put him behind bars, you know as well as I do that as the Chief Adjudicator of a case she can initiate an investigation if she feels its warranted, but only after the case is closed.'

Justin paused and seemed to ponder something, 'Actually, if you wanted a prime candidate for Head of the DMLE when you get rid of Roper, Susie's your girl. Don't get me wrong, Ron would be excellent, too, but at this point in time he's far too valuable as Head Auror. Give the role to Susie and she and Ron will wheedle out every bit of the "Old Boys Club" corruption still prevalent in the Ministry in five to ten years.'

The weight on Harry's chest lifted a little. Justin probably knew what he was talking about. Yet, he didn't like the slim odds of being dependant on Susan's and Orphington's steadfastness for Daphne's freedom. Thankfully, Mipsy was at her post. As soon as the shit hit the fan, the elf would grab Daphne and apparate her out of here, and then it was good riddance to magical England and its corruption toward the Potter family.

Albeit a small part of him still hoped it wouldn't come to that, they'd hate to leave their friends and the graves of their family behind… But should it happen, he'd bend the Potter fortune towards breaking those responsible.

Susan cancelled the Privacy Ward, and Harry concentrated on the trial once again.

'Objection sustained, the clerk will strike the last statement from the record,' Susan said. Her voice sounded frosty, and her eyes hardened as she watched the court clerk deleting the last part of the Unspeakable's statement from the protocol.

Low, angry hisses from the tiers indicated that the court of public opinion didn't agree with that decision.

Harry glanced around. A lot of wizards and witches glared openly at the judge's table, and the journalists in the benches reserved for the press once again scribbled their fingers off. The statement might be stricken from the official court record but it would find its way into the public record, witches and wizards gossiped more than old fish wives.

The two Ropers glowed with triumph, but Carmichael and Ogden shifted uneasily in their chairs and eyed the visitors tiers with what appeared to be some apprehension. Had they sensed that the winds of change had suddenly arrived and they were now trapped somewhere between a theoretical immovable object and an unstoppable force? Well, it served them right for not possessing a moral backbone.

Anthony didn't let on what he thought of the decision of the court. As if the interruption hadn't happened, he turned back to the Unspeakable and resumed the questioning.

'Let's get to the magical autopsy you performed on the body of the victim. Please, tell us your findings and the conclusions you were able to draw from that about the cause of Ms Weasley's death.'

'Well, from the position the body was found, it was likely that Ms Weasley had been submitted to a Blasting Charm.'

Roper and Dawlish both permitted themselves a triumphant smile at that statement.

'However, the first Diagnostic Charm I cast on the body excluded that possibility already. There was no sign of an external forceful magical impact on her chest or any other part of her body. The examination of her skull didn't show any sign of a fraction, either, albeit there was a small abrasion at the back of her head that matched Mrs Potter's statement of having dumped Ms Weasley on the floor. That wouldn't have killed Ms Weasley, so I dug deeper. The visual inspection of Ms Weasley's body showed subdural hematomas on her throat and neck, overlaid by scratches. From the position of the hematomas and the number of scratch marks I found, it seemed likely that the perpetrator throttled Ms Weasley, thumbs antecervical. That means the perpetrator stood in front of her, their thumbs pressed against Ms Weasley's throat and the rest of their fingers at the back of her neck. It was also obvious she fought against him with all her might, leaving scratches from her nails on her own skin and most likely also on the hands of the perpetrator.'

A shudder ran through Harry. What a horrible way to die! She must have known what was coming and fought for her life like a lioness. He cast a covert glance at Molly. How was she taking these revelations? She'd found some solace at the thought that Ginny had died a quick death by a Blasting Hex, the explanations of the Unspeakable had to be devastating.

Molly hid her face at Arthur's chest, and her shoulders shook, while he stroked her back, his face a horrible mixture of helplessness and grieve.

Harry averted his eyes to give them their privacy and concentrated on the Unspeakable.

'I then did an in-depth diagnostic of Ms Weasley's body. That included a couple of Diagnostic Spells to determine the condition of her body, but I also drew a blood sample for further investigation, and magical DNA samples from the skin she'd accumulated under her fingernails during the fight, and a vaginal swab.'

The noise level rose at the last statement, but quickly fell down when Susan glared at the audience. Nobody wanted to risk another fine.

'What did you find out with the Diagnostic Spells, Unspeakable X?' Anthony asked.

'The Diagnostic Spells came up with cartilage injuries of the trachea, injuries of the larynx and the hyoid, and internal bleedings of the conjunctiva of the eyes and tonsils, all injuries that are typically found when the death is caused by strangulation.'

'Had Ms Weasley suffered any other injuries that could have been the cause of her death?'

The Unspeakable shifted in his seat and shook his head. 'No, at least none that were lethal. I detected small abrasions and fissures in the vagina of the victim that suggested she had had rather hard sexual intercourse not long before her death, because these injuries just had begun to heal, but they were by no means lethal. The examination of the blood sample, however, showed that Ms Weasley was under the influence of Anti-Pain-Potions at the time of her death. Yet again, the concentration wasn't high enough to kill her, albeit it will have impacted her reaction and her ability to fight off the perpetrator. So, from the evidence found on the body, I concluded that her death was caused by strangulation and the resulting interruption of the blood flow to the brain.'

Anthony let that statement sink in for a moment. Then he asked, 'You mentioned a vaginal swab. Did it come up with additional evidence?'

Again, the Unspeakable shook his head. 'Unfortunately not, Ms Weasley's partner must have taken precautions that his semen didn't get into her body. I guess he used a Muggle condom and probably discarded it when he left the scene to leave no traces. A Muggle condom is a piece of latex rubber male Muggles put on their penis to prevent their semen from getting into the female body and result in a pregnancy. They are also used as a precaution against venereal diseases that can be transmitted by sexual intercourse. The young generation of wizards and witches mostly use them for that reason, because lately new magical venereal diseases have popped up, and there's not yet a cure against them.'

At the mentioning of an indecent Muggle item a lot of the older audience members stuck their heads together once more, whilst the younger visitors just nodded.

Anthony didn't pay them any heed. 'What about the DNA analysis of the skin found under Ms Weasley's fingernails?'

The Unspeakable sighed. 'Alas, we weren't able to finish that in time for the beginning of the trial. The experts in the Department of Mysteries at first had problems to separate the cells of the victim from those of the perpetrator, but they assured me they'd have a result this afternoon.'

'Thank you, Unspeakable X. I have no more questions, albeit the defence reserves the right to call Unspeakable X back into the witness box as soon as the results of the magical DNA analysis of the skin found under the fingernails of the victim are available.' He picked up a folder from his place next to Daphne. 'The defense introduces the autopsy report as piece of evidence D four to the trial.' He handed the report to the court clerk and made a gesture towards Roper that indicated it was her turn.

Roper didn't react at once. She'd turned her head around and looked at her brother, an almost comical look of cluelessness on her face. Geoffrey Roper didn't fare any better. It was apparent the statement of the Unspeakable had gone right over their heads.

Harry didn't bother to hide his grin, and by the sniggers that run through the room, many in the audience found Roper's cluelessness as satisfying as he did.

Roper got a grip on herself. 'The prosecution has no additional questions at this time,' she said with as much dignity as she could muster.

'The defense calls once again Mr Harry Potter into the witness stand.'

Under the excited murmur of the audience Harry walked to the witness box and agreed to another questioning under Veritaserum.

'Mr Potter, you heard that Unspeakable X explained that he estimated the time of Ms Weasley's death between eight o'clock and eight thirty in the morning of the nineteenth of May. Can you tell us of the whereabouts of your wife at that time?' Anthony asked.

'That I can. I'd forgotten to wind up the mechanical clock on my bedside table the night before, and as a result Daphne and I overslept on the nineteenth. When I woke up, Daphne was more or less draped over me.' Heat crept into Harry's cheek at that statement, and it didn't get better as some spectators chuckled.

He concentrated on Anthony, and the fleeting feeling of embarrassment abated. 'Almost immediately after I'd woken up my mobile phone rang. I had a hard time getting at it without waking Daphne.'

'Please, explain to the court what a mobile phone is, Mr Potter,' Anthony said into the new round of soft laughter.

'It's a device Muggles use to communicate over distance. I guess you can compare it to a Floo call, albeit it's communication by voice only, and much more comfortable, since you only need a small device that you can carry in your pocket. Daphne, I, and our magical staff all use mobile phones that have been modified to run in a magical environment. I always keep my mobile on me, and on my bedside table when I'm asleep, in case of an emergency at Crystal Fairy.' He withdrew his own phone from his pocket and held it up, then pushed a button.

A second later, a loud ring came from Lisa's direction. She opened her handbag, pulled out her own mobile, and answered the call. 'Yes, Harry?'

Harry smiled at her, and ended the call, and put the mobile back into his pocket.

'Thank you, Mr Potter. Please, go on,' Anthony said above the excited comments of the audience.

'Lisa Finch-Fletchley, the lady I just rang and our personal assistant, called that morning, a few minutes after I'd woken, to tell me we were late. Daphne and I were supposed to be in a meeting at Crystal Fairy at eight o'clock that morning, and when we didn't turn up, Lisa called us. According to what she said on the phone it was already ten past eight when she called. However, I wasn't inclined to have a mad rush to the office that morning. Daphne hadn't been feeling well ever since I returned from the Continent about two weeks ago, and despite my concern for her health she'd been stalling about seeing a healer again and again. I was determined that she'd see a healer that day, even if I had to drag her there, kicking and screaming.'

That caused another round of chuckles in the room.

'So, I told Lisa to cancel our appointments for the rest of the week due to Daphne being unwell. She obviously needed rest, and when I ended the phone call with Lisa, I decided to let Daphne sleep some more. I must've dozed off again, for the next thing I remember is our house elf, Matty, waking me up and announcing that Director McLean wanted to talk to Daphne and me. Daphne was still sound asleep that moment, she woke up a few moments later.'

'Thank you, Mr Potter. I have no more questions.' Anthony looked to Roper, who shook her head.

Anthony called Lisa into the witness stand next, who confirmed Harry's statement, and presented Harry's and Daphne's appointment calendar that showed a meeting for eight o'clock on the nineteenth. Anthony entered a Gemino copy of that page and entered it as evidence.

When Lisa walked back to her seat, Susan looked at the big clock hanging above the entrance door. 'We will break for lunch and sit again at two.' She banged her gavel. 'Case adjourned.'

_t.b.c._


	37. Chapter 37

_ **Ministry of Magic, June 4th 2008** _

Susan had scheduled a rather short lunch break, so Harry and Daphne, surrounded by the impromptu security team of their friends and Anthony, decided to have a coffee and a sandwich at the cafeteria of the ministry, even though that meant they'd be on display for the many curious onlookers.

They didn't talk as they drifted out of the courtroom and towards the cafeteria within the crowd of visitors. Daphne was securely tucked between Harry and Anthony, and Harry's eyes roamed the people around them, ready to draw his wand at the slightest provocation.

However, almost nobody paid them any heed. The crowd was abuzz talking in their own small groups about the revelations of the Unspeakable, and speculations about who Ginny's last lover might have been ran wild.

In the cafeteria Harry, Daphne and Anthony took a table in one corner, while their friends sat down at the tables to their right and left, thus warding them off from any unwanted attention. Harry cast strong Privacy Charms and Notice-Me-Not-Charms around them, even if it was unlikely they would need them it was better to be safe than sorry. The majority of the patrons of the cafeteria paid them little heed, most were more obviously interested in grabbing a bite of lunch and discussing Ginny's love life than paying any attention to Daphne.

Harry let out a deep breath. That change of public attitude was very welcomed.

Daphne was deadly pale under her strong glamour charms and leaned heavily against him, her eyes closed. She refused the sandwich Matty brought her when Harry called her, and Harry had to resort to the low blow of discussing the baby's health to ensure that she at least drank some pumpkin juice.

Anthony wasn't talkative, either. He had his folder in front of him, studying some papers and flicking through his notes while he munched on a sandwich.

In what seemed like the blink of an eye to Harry it was time to return to the courtroom. Susan once more led the Judges in and almost before everyone had retaken their seats she had picked up her gavel, banged it, re-opened the case, and asked Anthony to call his next witness.

'The defense calls Senior Auror Dean Thomas.'

Harry's former dorm mate walked to the witness box, sat down, and crossed his legs. Dean looked very dapper in sharp pressed Auror robes, and his relaxed posture made it obvious he'd appeared as a witness at court many times before.

'Senior Auror Thomas, you were part of the team that rushed to _Stinchcombe Hall _on the nineteenth of May to investigate the death of Ginevra Weasly?' Anthony asked.

'Yes, that's right.'

'Could you please tell the court about your observations regarding the crime scene?'

Dean let out a short, harsh laugh. 'To be honest, my co-Aurors and I never made it to the crime scene. When we arrived, we found a rather distressed witness waiting for us in the entrance hall of the house. He told us he'd discovered Gi… Ms Weasley's dead body in her bedroom. The Deputy Head Auror then ordered us to stay put and went up to the bedroom with Senior Auror Proudfoot. The Unspeakable ignored the order, I saw him sneaking up the stairs right behind the Deputy and Proudfoot, while the rest of us, a highly specialised team of crime scene investigators, stood in the entrance hall and cooled our heels.'

Like with the Unspeakable, his frustration about Dawlish was almost palpable in his voice.

Harry leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms in front of his chest, and took his chin between the thumb and forefinger of one hand. Maybe he wouldn't have to put much effort in getting back at Dawlish, judging by Dean's and the Unspeakable's assessment of his professionalism and the covert, yet angry glances the other Aurors stationed around the courtroom cast at Dawlish whenever he wasn't looking. Dawlish would find it hard to find an Auror willing to take orders from him in the not to distant future, and Kingsley would likely be pressured from multiple fronts to evict him from his duties as Ron's Deputy soon, if not drum him out of the Auror corps altogether.

'The Unspeakable came back not even five minutes later and told us the Deputy had ordered him out of the room before he could finish the initial investigation of the body according to standard protocol. He wasn't happy about that, and neither were we, with each passing minute we were left idle in the entrance hall it became more apparent to us that the Deputy was deliberately ignoring protocol for some yet undetermined reasons of his own.' Dean's voice had become grim, and he sat up straight and shot a withering glance at Dawlish.

'I had enough of standing around, so I pretended to be curious about the rather ostentatious house and ambled into what I discovered had to be the dining room. There was a long table in that room that could seat at least twenty. The head of the table was set for two, there was a plate with the leftovers of a cold dinner on the table, and a half empty bottle of wine. Both plates and the wine glasses next to them were used. I took photos of the table and investigated the room further according to standard protocol. A couple of chairs near the foot of the table were out of line, and the tablecloth there was wrinkled and halfway off the table. Something was lying next to the foot of one chair. I bent down and saw it was a used condom. I took photos of the condom and that area of the long table, too, and pocketed the condom in an evidence bag for a magical DNA examination of its content.'

Harry glanced at Williams.

Tiny beads of sweat pooled on his forehead, and he looked as if he was about to jump up and run from the courtroom.

Good! It was about time the bastard suffered for what he did to Ginny. Yet, there was still a possibility that Zabini was her murderer. Harry's eyes swerved across the witness bank, mindful not to show too much interest in Williams and Zabini.

The dark-skinned wizard still looked as unfazed as he had at the beginning of the day.

Could he really be that calm if he had throttled Ginny? Harry looked back at Williams, who squirmed in his seat, and then again at Zabini's calm posture. No, that was impossible. Williams was their man. He unfolded his arms and bent forward, not wanting to miss a single one of the nails Anthony drove into Williams' coffin.

'What did you do with the evidence?'

Dean sighed. 'I originally planned on giving it to the Deputy. However, when I returned to the entrance hall he wasn't back yet. I took a short trip through the other rooms of the ground floor. They were untouched, as immaculate as if they were on display, and I concluded that the victim either never used them, or had and exceptionally efficient household staff, which made me wonder if she did, why they hadn't cleaned up the dining room? Given that I saw the Deputy speaking to a house elf only a short time later I can only assume that she ordered them to leave her undisturbed for the evening or until she called them again.'

Dean gave a small shrug of his shoulders and continued, 'My walk ended in the attached swimming hall. I found a couple of swimsuits there that probably belonged to the victim, but nothing that indicated she'd been there right before her death or had been there with a visitor. I came back to the entrance hall when the Deputy came down. Instead of putting us to work he ignored us and went to talk with the head house elf. Five minutes later he returned, and before I could even mention the evidence I had found, he announced the case was solved, the victim had been killed by Mrs Potter the afternoon before with a Blasting Hex. That was the moment I decided to keep the evidence I found from the Deputy with the intention of informing the Head Auror instead.'

As to be expected, his statement caused a lot of whispers in the room.

'Why would you do that?'

Dean's face became hard. 'I'd talked to the Unspeakable while the Deputy interrogated the house elf. The Unspeakable told me how he'd found Ms Weasley's body, and that it was naked. I've got ten years as an Auror under my belt, and you can't help developing some sixth sense in your job during such a long time. My gut told me the Deputy's conclusion didn't add up with the evidence I'd found. Everything I'd seen on the ground floor indicated that Ms Weasley must have had a male visitor after Mrs Potter left. It was also obvious to everyone present that the Deputy didn't give a damn about standard protocol, it was also quite obvious that he had no interest in listening to any of us. Actually I'll come right out and say it, the way the Deputy handled the investigation had the strong semblance of a corrupt Auror bending an investigation in a predetermined direction, and I didn't want to be a part of that.'

Oddly enough, while that statement elicited some exclamations from the audience and hasty scribbles into the notebooks of the journalists, it didn't cause an uproar.

Harry shifted his position with a thoughtful nod, people had probably already come to the same conclusion.

Roper, however, shot to her feet, her face once again beet red. 'Objection, the Senior Auror is presuming Deputy Head Auror Dawlish' motives.'

Susan banged her gavel. 'Objection sustained. Senior Auror Thomas, stick to the facts, please.'

Dean inclined his head, he didn't look chastised at all. Instead, he sent a smug smile at Dawlish.

Harry suppressed a grin. How Slytherin of his old roommate! He'd made his point, and judging by the still furiously scribbling journalists, tomorrow the whole population of magical Britain, and of the biggest part of the rest of the magical world as well, would read about it and ask uncomfortable questions, with their fallout most likely dragging Roper down with Dawlish.

It couldn't happen to two more deserving arseholes.

'Moving on, Senior Auror Thomas, what were your next steps with regards to the evidence you have collected?' Anthony asked.

'I gave it to the Unspeakable to log it for further investigation. According to protocol it should have been done by the leading investigator, in this case the Deputy, but I already gave my reasons for going over his head. I was afraid the evidence would get lost somehow if it didn't go to the Department of Mysteries right away.' He drew air quotes with his fingers around the word "lost" to emphasise his point. 'A few days later I met the Head Auror at a private function and informed him of the evidence. As one of the closest relatives of the victim he had the right to demand a magical DNA-examination from the Department of Mysteries and get a report of that examination.'

He pulled a slim folder out of his robes. 'Here is my report, adhering to protocol, about the investigations I performed at _Stinchcombe Hall, _the evidence I obtained, and how I handled it.'

'Thank you, Senior Auror Thomas.' Anthony took the folder from Dean and entered it as the next piece of evidence of the defense, then motioned to Roper that it was now her turn.

Roper got up from her seat and marched towards the witness box, her eyes narrowed and her mouth tight, as if she was fighting against a bad taste.

'Senior Auror Thomas, are you aware you acted against the order of your superior when you went off strolling through the house of the victim and started tampering with evidence?'

If she had hoped to intimidate Dean with that opening, she failed. Dean leaned back and gave her a level look. 'Of course, Madam Director. For the record, I wasn't tampering, I obtained and handled the evidence according to protocol, as you can read in my report.'

Roper ignored the barb back and latched onto what she perceived as an admission of guilt. 'What by Merlin possessed you to violate protocol like that? You ought to be ashamed, your conduct is a disgrace for the Auror Department, and I am sure that there'll be consequences for you once this court case wraps up.'

Dean didn't as much as flinch. 'I assume, Madam Director, that you're familiar with the laws developed for the Auror Department after the war?'

'Er… of course.'

A small sneer appeared on Dean's face. 'Well, then you'll also know that I was part of the focus group that consisted of members from the Wizengamot, the D.M.L.E. and the Department of Mysteries that developed and wrote those laws. A group that included among others Mr Harry Potter, Head Auror Ronald Weasley, and Judge Susan Bones. You will also know, of course, that these laws were enacted due to the well known, though unadvertised corruption within the Auror Department during the years preceding the Second Bloodwar and as well as throughout the war. We paid special attention to the laws pertaining to the duties of an Auror who encounters a possible case of corruption within the department, namely from a superior. Article twenty-seven of that law states explicitly that an unlawful order must not be obeyed, and according to article twenty-eight the next in the chain of command has to be informed. In that light, I wasn't bound to the order of the Deputy, and I duly informed the Head Auror about what had happened. So, on what grounds do you base your threat of disciplinary actions against me, Madam Director?'

The audience gasped, and Harry almost leapt to his feet and applauded his old roommate.

Roper gaped at him, her face crimson. 'You -!'

A loud cough from her brother interrupted her. She jerked her head towards the source and faltered at her brother's hard stare.

'No more questions.' Roper swept back to her desk and sat down, crossed her arms and glared at the table in front of her, ignoring the ongoing whispers of the audience.

Harry chanced a glance at the judge's table. How were they receiving Dean's bold statement, especially Geoffrey Roper's pets Smith and Warrington?

They didn't look happy, that much was obvious. Smith frowned, albeit there was also a trace of uneasiness in his face, as if he hadn't understood all the implications of Dean's words. Well, that figured. Smith had always been of less than mediocre intelligence, yet full of himself. Warrington, on the other hand, was crimson, and the looks he gave Dean and Ron didn't bode well for either of them. Without any doubt Kingsley soon would have to deal with a made-up complaint about them.

'The defense again calls Unspeakable X into the witness stand.'

Anthony's voice interrupted Harry's musings, and he concentrated back on the trial.

'Unspeakable X, we just learned from Senior Auror Thomas that he handed you an evidence bag containing a used condom for examination. Is that right?'

'Yes, that's right.'

'How did you process the piece of evidence Senior Auror Thomas gave you?'

'Like I do with every piece of evidence I'm asked to examine. I listed the examination in the book of commissions of the department under the date and serial number, and then started the magical DNA-analysis.'

'Did the analysis come up with a match?'

'Not at once. I first compared the results with the database of our department, but came up empty. A few days later, however, Director Raymond Whiteford from Crystal Fairy Beauty Products approached me. He handed me a glass and a water bottle and asked me to examine them for fingerprints and DNA, compare the results with the probes we already had in the Weasley case, and inform Head Auror Weasley about the outcome.'

Everyone in the courtroom seemed to sit a little straighter and all noise ceased at this revelation as everyone waited with bated breath for what was coming next.

From behind, a large, freckled hand grabbed Harry's shoulder and held it. He turned around and exchanged a long look with his best friend. Too many things now hinged on this result, their case had now reached its final crucial phase.

Anthony made a dramatic pause, like lawyers did on every bad legal tv show Harry had ever seen. 'And what was the outcome?'

'We found fingerprints on the bottle as well as on the glass, and we isolated enough cell material from the rim of the glass to be able to conduct a magical DNA-analysis. The comparison of the fingerprints came up empty at first, the DNA from the glass, however, matched the DNA we obtained through the analysis of the contents of the condom found by Senior Auror Thomas. At the request of Head Auror Weasley, we cross referenced the fingerprints from the glass with the fingerprints we discovered on the anonymous letter, the pictures, and the envelope that contained them, evidence that was introduced to this case by the prosecution at the first day of court.'

The Unspeakable paused.

Harry suppressed a snort. What an actor, it looked like he was taking a leaf out of Anthony's playbook!

At the judge's table, Susan, Padma and Orphington leant forward, hanging on every word uttered by the two would-be thespians. Ogden and Carmichael, who had acted rather subdued, both perked up and also leaned forward, while the colour on Warrington's face deepened, and he exchanged a look full of fury with Geoffrey Roper. The only people involved in Daphne's trial not understanding the full implications of the Unspeakable's evidence seemed to be Zacharias Smith and to a lesser extent Eugenia Roper. Smith had his head tilted to the side, lips pursed and eyebrows squished together, and scratched his temple with his forefinger. Roper was not as obvious, her face showed a slight crease between her eyebrows, while she sat in her seat perpendicular to the table and tried to make eye contact with her brother.

The courtroom became so quiet you could have heard a pin drop.

'The fingerprints matched the third set on the anonymous letter, the one we can't identify yet. It is safe to say that the man the victim last had sexual intercourse with also sent the letter and the pictures.' The voice of the Unspeakable rang through the silent courtroom like a cannon blast.

'Thank you, Unspeakable X,' Anthony said into the lingering silence, thus preventing another outburst of the audience. 'Your witness, Madam Director,' he said over the whispers that flared up.

Roper made a dismissive gesture, yet it didn't deceive anyone in the room about the fact she was at a loss how to deal with the Unspeakable's evidence, and Anthony lost no time in calling his next witness.

'The defense calls Director Raymond Whiteford into the witness stand.'

The tension in the courtroom seemed to thicken with each second while Raymond walked towards the witness box and Susan cautioned him.

Harry cast a look at Williams.

The man was as white as a sheet.

Harry leaned back, he'd enjoy the spectacle that was coming. Williams was no fool, by now he must have added two and two together and would know they were hot on his heels. He deserved each moment of agony for what he'd done to Ginny. Hopefully he'd crack under the pressure and confess.

'Director Whiteford, is it true you handed a water bottle and a glass to the Department of Mysteries, asked to examine them for fingerprints and DNA, and further asked to compare the results with the evidence already obtained in the Weasley case?' Anthony asked.

'That is true.'

'What made you do this?'

'I've known Mrs Potter since she was a little girl who played under her father's desk while he worked at headquarters. You'd be hard pressed to find a gentler soul than her, so imagine my shock when Mr Potter told us she'd been arrested for the murder of Ginevra Weasley. To everyone who works with the Potters on a daily base it soon became apparent that the reasons for Mrs Potter's alleged crime that were purported by the press were little more than a smear campaign, most probably part of a larger scheme to obliterate their political influence on the Winzagemot and in our society.'

Once again, the audience became restless.

'Of course it was all a lie.' Raymonds next words were enough to quieten the noise down. 'The Potters are veritable lovebirds, everyone working at headquarters knows that.' He gave a rueful chuckle, "Although they've tried their best to be the ultimate professionals in our work environment they fooled no-one, their glances at each other linger, they never leave each other's presence without a small touch, their eyes smile more after they've been in each others company. It's the small things that we've all noticed, but we never drew their attention to it. I mean, what could one say? Excuse me Mr and Mrs Potter, but could you please stop subtly flirting with each other so that we can get down to business here?'

A round of chuckles went through the courtroom.

Harry's cheeks became warm, but he joined the laughter and gave Raymond a small nod to let him know he didn't take offense. He'd had no idea that he and Daphne were that obvious when in the office.

Anthony smiled at the man and gave him a gesture to continue at which Raymond's face lost its wistfulness. 'Immediately after Mrs Potter's arrest Mr Potter took a leave of absence for an undetermined period of time to support his wife and made me his proxy. The Potters then focussed solely on Mrs Potter's defence. About a week after the arrest Mr Potter contacted me and asked for a confidential meeting. In that meeting he revealed to me that the defense team had come up with several clues that pointed towards Ginevra Weasley's last lover being her murderer and needed a sample of his fingerprints and DNA to nail him. Mr Potter also told me the suspect was an employee of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products and asked for my assistance in obtaining the samples.'

'Who was that man?'

'Potion Master Morten Williams.'

In the witness bench, Williams jumped to his feet and made a desperate dash towards the doors. A red beam flashed through the courtroom, and Williams crashed to the ground before he'd taken more than five steps, felled by a precise Stunner from Dean.

Hell broke loose once again. Over the mayhem Harry gave a heartfelt nod of thanks at his former roommate. Dean winked back and shoved his wand into its holster.

'Cast a _Renervate _on the witness and take him into custody.' Susan said as soon as she had restored order. 'The court is of the opinion that he would appear to be somewhat more involved in this case than was previously apparent.'

Anthony gave a polite bow towards the table of judges. 'Indeed, Your Honours. Please allow the defense to conclude the questioning of Director Whiteford. I would then like to call Mr Williams to the stand after that.'

Once again, a tense silence settled onto the courtroom while Anthony walked Raymond through how he had obtained the evidence from Williams and handed it to the Unspeakables.

The tension neared breaking point when Anthony said, 'The defense calls Mr Morten Williams to the witness stand.'

Gone was the confident surfer boy. Instead a shaking Morten Williams, his face as white as a sheet, entered the witness box. 'I demand to be questioned under Veritaserum!' he called, even before Susan had cautioned him.

A jolt of disquiet went through Harry, and Anthony looked visibly startled. They exchanged an apprehensive glance. They hadn't counted on that. Why was Williams calling for an interrogation under Veritaserum? Had they put all their chips on the wrong man?

Again, a tense silence settled on the courtroom while Williams took a dose of Veritaserum.

'Mr Williams, did you kill Ginervra Weasley?' Anthony asked.

'No, I didn't.' The words were slow and sluggish from the impact of the Truth Potion, though they had a palpable ring of sincerity.

Harry's stomach dropped and he slumped in his seat. Damn, they had been so sure! It was back to square one now, and what would this mean for Daphne's case? They probably had enough to forestall a unanimous vote of the judges, but everything depended on Susan, Orphington and Padma. He glanced at Warrington and Geoffrey Roper.

Both men had perked up at Williams' words. There was no doubt they saw their chance after they already thought all was lost. Damn! Harry wiped his moist hands on his robes.

'Did you spend the night from the eighteenth to the nineteenth of May with Ginevra Weasley?'

'Yes, I did, we'd started our… liaison about a week before that, on the night of the promotional party. That Monday Ginny invited me for dinner. Yes, we had sex in the dining room, and after that we went up to her bedroom for some more. It was a fling, nothing more, and I didn't mean to stay for the whole night. I must've fallen asleep, the next thing I know is a frantic Ginny shaking me awake and demanding I had to leave immediately because her life partner had entered the wards.' Thick beads of sweat ran down his cheeks, and his eyes flickered between Anthony and the judge's table.

'What happened then?'

'I scrambled out of bed, Ginny thrust my clothes at me and urged me to make a run of it. I dashed through the door while she vanished the condoms we'd used that night. I'd just made it through the private lounge in front of her bedroom and out onto the corridor when I heard someone stomping up the stairs. I slipped into one of the empty bedrooms on that floor and dressed in a hurry. A man passed that room and stomped on to Ginny's rooms. There was a loud bang from the doors to her parlour, I suppose he slammed them shut behind himself. I didn't wait to find out more, I slipped out of the bedroom and got the hell out of that house and to the Apparition point.'

Quite a lot in the audience sniggered, and even Anthony's lips twitched.

Williams acknowledged the sniggers with a withering glance at the audience.

'Around what time in the morning did your… uh… hasty retreat from Ms Weasley's bedroom occur?' Anthony asked, his lips still twitching.

'I have no idea. It was already light outside - wait, the clock in the entrance hall chimed eight as I rushed down the stairs.' Wiliams' eyes shot murderous daggers at Anthony.

'Can you give us a description of the man who Ms Weasley claimed to be her life partner?'

'Sorry, no, I never saw him,' Williams said with a shrug.

Anthony sighed. 'Thank you, Mr Williams, no more questions.'

He went to his place beside Daphne, and the two had a conversation behind a Privacy Ward, while Roper questioned Williams to no avail as she tried to confuse him about the date of the night he spent with Ginny and the time he left in the morning.

When an unhappy Roper returned to her seat, Anthony and Daphne still were absorbed into their discussion. Susan shot a spark from her wand at them; both jerked in surprise and Anthony lowered his ward.

'The court asks the defense to either proceed with their case or, if they are finished, we will move to closing arguments.'

For the first time since the beginning of the trial Anthony seemed to be at a loss of what to do next. He flipped through a couple sheets of parchment, his face marred by a frown that became more pronounced as he searched for something.

'Your Honours, the defence seems to be at a loss,' Roper called, a small smirk on her face as she lounged in her chair, looking somewhat relaxed for the first time that day.

'Mr Goldstein?' Susan prompted Anthony, her voice betraying no indication of her own thoughts.

Anthony's movements as he pushed back his chair and rose to announce his decision were uncharacteristically slow. He got a respite as the doors of the courtroom opened and an Unspeakable walked in, carrying a folder.

All eyes in the courtroom followed him as he walked to Unspeakable X in the witness bench, said something to him under a Privacy Ward, and handed him the folder.

Unspeakable X rose and addressed the court. 'Your Honours, I have just received the results from the magical DNA-analysis of the foreign skin samples found under the fingernails of the victim.'

Anthony's face visibly brightened at the announcement. 'The defense calls Unspeakable X into the witness stand.' His voice betrayed a good deal of relief.

The Unspeakable went to the witness box once again, and Anthony lost no time. 'Unspeakable X, could you please detail the results of the analysis from the skin found under the victim's fingernails?'

The audience, which had grasped the significance of magical DNA-analysis faster than Roper, listened with bated breath.

'We managed to separate the sample into the DNA of three different individuals. For the first two, we found matches in our database. Not surprising, the first sample matched with the DNA of the victim. The second match belonged to Mr Williams. Compared to the third sample, this sample was rather small. However, it's no surprise, either, given that he admitted he spent the night with Ms Weasley and the other clues we found on her body indicated that their union must've been rather… passionate.'

Williams, two Aurors still watching him, slumped in his seat at the Unspeakable's verdict and let out a deep breath.

'What about the third sample?'

The Unspeakable raised his hands, palms upwards, in a gesture of regret. 'I am sorry to say that we had no match to the sample in our database. What I can say, however, is that the DNA belongs to a male of partly African descent.'

The metaphorical light bulb went on in Harry's brain and his eyes moved to Zabini. Was this the break-through?

Anthony stiffened, his face hardened, and he pivoted. His gaze also turned to Ginny's dark-skinned lover. 'I think the defense can come up with a party of interest.'

There! Did the man give an infinitesimal twitch? Harry fought down the urge to stand up, instead he scooted forward on his seat to have a better look. No, his eyes must have been deceiving him, Zabini's face seemed as stoney as ever. He leaned back and sighed. Was that man just an exceptionally skiĺled Occlumens or were they wrong to suspect him?

'No more questions. Madam Director?' Anthony said, and Harry turned his attention back to the trial.

Roper had listened to the statement of the Unspeakable as raptly as the audience. Her glance followed Anthony's, lingered on Zabini, and turned from there to Daphne. A calculating light slowly appeared in her eyes. 'The prosecution has no questions at this time.'

'The defense calls Mr Blaise Zabini into the witness stand.'

Zabini stood up and walked towards the witness box. His face still was stoic.

Harry narrowed his eyes. Was there a faint sheen of sweat on Zabini's upper lip?

As soon as Zabini had sat down, Anthony turned to the judge's table. 'The defense asks that the witness will be questioned under Veritaserum.'

Susan turned to her fellow judges and opened her mouth. She hadn't uttered even one word when Warrington and Smith already nodded, and Ogden and Carrington hurried to follow their example.

Harry sneered. So, the rats were leaving the sinking ship. Tomorrow, the Ropers, Warrington and Smith probably all would claim that they'd suspected Zabini right from the beginning and that the trial against Daphne had been an elaborate scheme of the prosecution to draw him out.

Anthony waited until the Truth Potion took effect and came straight to the point.

'Mr Zabini, did you kill Ginevra Weasley?'

Zabini's jaw clenched tight in an obvious fight to prevent the words from escaping him, tendons strained in his neck, and his eyes glared holes in Anthony. At last, he lost the battle and his mouth opened. 'Yes, I did!'

His statement was met with dead silence, then bedlam ensued.

'Nooooo!' Molly's distraught wail echoed through the courtroom and broke Harry's heart. The next moment she slumped against her husband. Arthur glared at Zabini with a hatred Harry never would've expected from the gentle man.

Under the cover of the excited exclamations of the public Harry's eyes turned to Daphne. She continued to sit bolt upright, nothing in her posture betrayed the relief she must feel at Zabini's confession. He tried to emulate her example while his whole body seemed to become light and limp from the sudden lift of pressure. It was over, his thumping heart sang. Zabini had confessed to Ginny's murder under Veritaserum, the jury had no grounds to continue the case against Daphne any longer.

'Why?' Anthony's voice broke into his jubilant thoughts.

Again Zabini struggled to keep his mouth closed, succeeding for several heartbeats. Still, the potion was stronger. 'We had a pact, Ginny and I. She'd attract the rich blokes, marry them, and strip them of a good deal of their gold, whilst I was managing her career, her finances and making the most of her gold via investments. It was meant to be temporary, until we had enough gold to last us for a lifetime. We'd reached that point after Ginny's fourth divorce. Ginny…' His voice broke, he bit his lip as if to hold back the words and grimaced.

'What about Ginny?' Anthony's voice was calm, yet there was a hint of steel in it that indicated he wouldn't let go.

'Ginny didn't agree.' Zabini breathed hard, as if the words cost him a lot of effort. This time he hardly seemed to even try to fight the potion, though his face was still set. 'She said she still had a score to settle with Potter and insisted on returning to England. I begged her not to, to let bygones be bygones. I might as well have been talking to a wall, Ginny was stubborn as soon as her mind was made up. So, I reluctantly agreed to return with her to England, although I knew it was a mistake. I knew it would destroy her… us.' He covered his face with the palms of his hands.

'What happened next?'

Zabini lowered his hands. The stoic man was gone, in front of them sat a man who'd gone through hell and looked like it. 'She tried to win Potter back and failed miserably. Ginny still lived in the past, she refused to believe that Potter had changed, but anyone who had eyes could see that Potter had moved on long ago. That man is head over heels in love with his own wife. I told Ginny, tried to make her see reason… She wouldn't listen. Then she met that _stronzo*_.' He turned and glared at Williams.

Williams recoiled under the wrath in his eyes.

'Ginny thought him just what she needed to make Potter jealous and began an affair with him. I was furious, never before had she started something without my consent. I tried to talk to her, tried to make her see reason… It was all in vain. She was determined to continue on the path she'd chosen. Then came the last straw.' He interrupted himself, licked his lips and pressed them together in a thin line, as if preventing himself from telling more.

A knowing grin appeared on Harry's face. So, Zabini was fighting the infamous, Veritaserum-induced word vomit? Good luck with that, Anthony was a much more skilled interrogator than Roper, he wouldn't let Zabini get away with that.

'What else happened?' Anthony's steely voice indicated he wasn't willing to let go before he knew all the reasons why Ginny had to die.

Zabini let out a strange noise, a mix between a groan and a sob. His hands curled into fists, and he glared at Anthony. Yet, the Veritaserum was stronger. 'Ginny somehow found out that Williams had gold, loads of gold. She was more determined than ever to use him. She… she dumped me. Me, the man who'd helped her to get out of that hovel her family calls a house! Me, who'd made her the top female Quidditch star of the world. She didn't even have the decency to tell me in person, she sent me a bloody owl. I went to see her, I didn't care about the time of the day. She was in her bedroom, alone, but it was clear she'd had male company not long ago. She ordered me out of the room, as if I was a house elf she could bully around. I became angry, told her I wouldn't allow her to treat me like a used doormat…' The knuckles on his hands stood out white, as if he was under an unbearable strain he couldn't shake off.

'She threatened to rat me out, tell the Aurors everything about the illegal businesses of my family, how I used her and her fame to laundry money for them.'

Harry flinched back in his seat at the venom in Zabini's voice. The whispers in the courtroom flared up once again. He ignored them, his eyes were on Molly and Arthur.

Arthur's face was pale and grim, yet composed. Zabini's statement wasn't news to him, Bill, Greco and the Goblins of Gringotts had found out everything about Zabini's and Ginny's dubious businesses and shared it with Anthony. Molly, however, hadn't been willing to listen to reason, and most likely would've run to Dawlish and Roper with their findings, so they'd kept her in the dark. She listened to Zabini's devastating statement, her eyes wide, red spots on her pale cheeks, and her hands pressed against her heart.

Harry averted his eyes. He'd have spared her this if he could. However, she had made her own bed, with her false, grief-driven accusations against Daphne, and with her stubbornness, she'd refused to believe in the possibility of another suspect, no matter what Arthur, Bill, or Ron told her. She had no-one to blame other than herself for the hard blows striking down on her now. Their relationship would never be the same again. It would be near impossible to forget what she had nearly done to Daphne and their baby -.

A harsh laugh from Zabini brought him back to the present. The dark-skinned man sneered at Anthony. 'That little backstabbing _fica**_! As if she hadn't been in on the plan right from the beginning! Her earnings as a Quidditch player and model alone never would've paid for her lifestyle.' His voice was full of venom.

Harry suppressed a sigh. From the results of the investigations of Ginny's finances they already knew that, but it was something entirely different to hear Zabini spill the beans with a hate-filled voice in front of the curious ears of the wizarding public.

'So, your motive to kill her wasn't just hurt pride and jealousy, you also killed her out of greed because she endangered the steady flow of Galleons into your pockets?' Anthony asked in a calm voice.

'Way to go, Anthony!' Justin muttered under his breath.

A small smile played around Harry's lips. Anthony was good, indeed. He wanted to make sure Zabini wouldn't get away with extenuating circumstances. Hurt pride and jealousy were feelings most - male - judges could understand and relate to, at least to a certain degree. With a good barrister pleading extenuating circumstances and some luck Zabini would face nothing more than a limited sentence in a low security ward of Azkaban based on that, ten years maximum perhaps, certainly not more. A murder out of greed was something else, however. Azkaban for life was the only possible outcome. He held his breath. Would Zabini fall for the trap in his Veritaserum-induced state?

'Yes… yes! The bint deserved it! Nobody crosses a Zabini!' he shouted. His mouth snapped shut, and he looked around with wild eyes as the implication of his words hit him.

Harry almost pumped his fist into the air. Anthony had nailed the bastard!

Anthony didn't as much as permit himself the slightest hint of a triumphant smile. 'No more questions.' He quirked an eyebrow at Roper.

She gaped at him for a long moment, then shut her mouth and shook her head.

Anthony turned towards the judge's table. 'In the light of Mr Zabini's confession of having murdered Ms Weasley the defence moves that all charges against Mrs Potter be withdrawn and that she be free to leave and her wand being returned to her.'

'The prosecution withdraws all charges,' Roper said before Susan could turn to her fellow judges to get their votes. 'We also ask that the court allows us to arrest Mr Zabini _in situ_ and that he remain in custody until his trial.'

'Trust Roper to manage to find something useful in the dregs of a cauldron and salvage what little reputation she has left!' Ron snorted behind Harry.

Harry gave a faint nod. Right now he couldn't care less for Roper, he'd take care of her later. All that mattered was the verdict of the court. He couldn't wait to take Daphne home and leave this nightmare behind them…

He returned his focus to the judges where Susan was in the middle of what appeared to be a very short conference with her fellow judges. She dropped her privacy ward and banged her gavel. 'Both motions sustained!' She turned to Daphne. 'Will the defendant please rise.'

She waited until Daphne shakily stood next to Anthony. 'You are free to go, Mrs Potter. On behalf of the court I am sorry you had to go through this ordeal.' She sent a death glare at the two Ropers and Dawlish. 'Rest assured that this travesty of a prosecution case will have a sequel in court that will also include an investigation into the actions of some members on the panel of judges.' Her death glare wandered over the judge's bench, and Warrington blanched visibly.

Harry didn't wait for anything further, he jumped to his feet, rushed to Daphne's side and swept her into his arms.

Daphne slumped against him and buried her head in his chest. 'Is it… is it really over?'

'Yes, my love.' He dropped a kiss in her hair and tightened his arms around her. From far, far away there were amused chuckles from the judges and the audience. He couldn't care less.

They stood like that for a long moment, until a commotion in the courtroom made them raise their heads.

Zabini, still in the witness box, was struggling against two Aurors who had advanced on him to arrest him. He yanked one arm free, stuck a hand into the pocket of his robes and pulled out a small vial. He raised it to his lips, bit off the cork, and emptied the vial with one gulp. His eyes glazed over, he slumped back into his seat, his head lolled back, and his empty eyes stared up to the vaulted ceiling of the courtroom.

Everyone in the room froze.

'What the fuck?' Anthony's voice broke the silence after what seemed like an eternity.

The Unspeakable awoke from his stupor. He rose, walked over to the witness box, pulled out his wand and waved it across Zabini in a complicated pattern. An array of black runes appeared in the air.

The Unspeakable turned towards the judge's table. 'He is dead, he poisoned himself.'

For once, Susan seemed to be at a loss for words. Her gavel mid-air, she gaped at the Unspeakable.

Still, nobody said a word.

Ron rose to his feet and addressed the two Aurors who stood next to Zabini's body. 'Creevey, Jones, conjure a stretcher, please, and bring his body to the Department of Mysteries. I want a full autopsy by the day after tomorrow, at the latest, I also want his DNA run against those samples.'

'Yes, Head Auror Weasley,' one of the Aurors murmured. He flicked his wand, a stretcher appeared out of thin air, and together with his partner he levitated Zabini's body onto the stretcher and covered it up. Followed by the Unspeakable, the two Aurors levitated the stretcher out of the courtroom. The tall doors banged shut behind them, the sound echoing through the quiet room like a clap of thunder.

Susan lowered her gavel for a final bang. 'Case dismissed.'

As if one man, the reporters jumped to their feet and rushed out of the courtroom in a race to deliver the sensationalist news first to their respective editorial offices.

The visitors scrambled to their feet and slowly drifted out of the courtroom, while they talked in loud, excited voices about the surprising finale of the trial of the century.

Ron brushed his way past Harry and Daphne, he didn't even stop to congratulate them. His lips pursed in a thin white line and a deep frown on his face, his attention was trained on Dawlish. As soon as he reached his Deputy, he raised a Privacy Ward. His ears slowly turned a deep shade of red as he gave the man what appeared to be a dressing down that had him recoiling in his seat.

'Couldn't happen to a more deserving git,' Anthony said with a grin and gathered his papers to put them into his briefcase.

Harry took a deep breath, as if awakening from a bad dream. One arm still around Daphne, he pulled Anthony into a one-armed hug. 'Anthony… I don't have the words… Thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart!'

'You're welcome,' the young barrister said in a cheerful voice and patted his back in return. 'After all, it is my job.'

Daphne disentangled herself from Harry's arms and turned towards Anthony. 'Thank you,' she said with a breaking voice and gave him a tight hug.

'Anytime.' Anthony returned the hug and then gently pushed her back into Harry's arms. 'Take your wife home, Harry.'

_t.b.c._

* * *

*_stronzo = scumbag_

_**fica = cunt_

_Lol, in Italian even foul expletives sound good._


	38. Chapter 38

_ **The Ministry of Magic, June 5th 2008** _

Nicholas Greco allowed himself to drift out of the courtroom with the crowd. Instead of following the masses towards the elevators and the staircase to get out of the ministry, he maneuvered himself from the river of humanity and stopped next to the tall doors. He'd wait here for the Potters and Goldstein to come out of the courtroom, to congratulate them on their victory over the still corrupt legal system.

It was a matter of courtesy as well as a calculated business move. Goldstein had just proven beyond any shadow of a doubt that he was a brilliant barrister, and the Potter case would give his career a stratospheric boost. He'd be in need of a private investigator for a lot of his future cases, so it wouldn't hurt to be on good terms with the man. And if he'd read Mr Potter's expressions and body language during the trial correctly, hunting season was upon them and Dawlish, the Roper siblings and Warrington were fair game. He'd need someone to dig up the dirt and the skeletons they had without any doubt left in their wake, and obtain the evidence in a way that would hold up in a Wizengamot investigation.

He craned his neck to have a look into the courtroom. The room was now fairly empty; the Potters and Goldstein still stood next to the defendant's bench, exchanging pleasantries. He sighed, resigned himself to another couple of minutes of waiting, and let his eyes meander around the courtroom.

Head Auror Weasley was still berating Dawlish behind a Privacy Ward. The Deputy didn't look as if he was relishing the experience by any stretch of the imagination.

Nicholas grinned; the Weasley temper was legendary in the magical world, and while Head Auror Weasley had the reputation of being an easygoing head of department who regularly joined his subordinates for a pint of butterbeer in the Leaky Cauldron, on this occasion he was showing that he was a true son of Molly Weasley.

At the thought of the matriarch of the Weasley clan Nicholas sobered. The woman had caused so much grief with her unfounded accusations and the way she'd allowed Dawlish and Roper to play her like a cheap dissimulator. Besides the pain she had caused the Potters her behaviour had also caused a rift in her own family. It would be interesting to see whether the Weasleys ever get over that. He cast a surreptitious glance at Molly and Arthur, who hadn't left the courtroom yet.

Molly Weasley still sat on her seat behind the prosecution's bench, her head into her husband's shoulder she seemed to be crying. Her children and their spouses were gathered around them, comforting both of their parents with soft, murmured words and tender touches, even if some of those touches seemed to be somewhat strained.

While Nicholas still looked at the family moment, Head Auror Weasley finally let go of his unfortunate deputy. He turned around to his family, let out a deep sigh, and ran a hand through his hair as if to calm himself down. His gaze fell on his mother, and his merry blue eyes hardened for a moment. He let out another deep sigh, his face softened, and he stepped behind his parents. After only a moment's hesitation he put a hand on his mother's shoulder.

Nicholas let out the breath he'd been holding, and a soft warmth blossomed in his chest. It seemed there was hope the Weasley clan would get over this disaster, it might take some time, but their strong bonds as a family and their love for each other would help them to overcome the tragedy and mend the fences Molly's unreasonable, yet somewhat understandable behaviour had caused.

But how would the tragedy influence their relationship with the Potters? Mr Potter had always been like a seventh son to the Weasleys, and there was no doubt he loved his surrogate family. Yet his feelings for his wife were much stronger, as his passionate statement in her defense during the trial had made evident. Would he be willing to make a new start and let bygones be bygones?

The Potters and Goldstein finally decided it was time to leave the courtroom and ambled towards the doors, Goldstein in the lead and the Potters following him arm in arm at a slower pace.

Molly Weasley raised her head from her husband's shoulder and looked at the young couple, her expression an odd mix of determination and shame. 'Daphne, Harry, please wait... There's… something I'd like to say to you both.'

Mr Potter's step froze, and his face hardened. Neither did he turn his head around, nor did he deign an answer to Molly Weasley's plea. The next moment he propelled his wife forward with a gentle pressure of his arm around her waist.

Molly Weasley's face scrunched up as if she was about to burst into a new bout of tears. Her husband and children followed the little drama with varying degrees of dismay, yet no-one made a motion to interfere on behalf of their mother or wife.

Nicholas sighed, probably they thought, with good reason, that Molly had brought Mr Potter's wrath upon herself and deserved whatever course of action he'd chosen.

Mrs Potter, however, slowly at first, resisted the soft pressure of her husband. She halted her steps, put her free hand on his chest, turned, and spoke to him in such a low voice that perhaps nobody except Mr Potter could understand a word.

He listened to her, his expression softened somewhat, although it still reminded Nicholas of a very stubborn donkey he'd had the misfortune to ride during a memorable visit to the island of Santorini in Greece, and shook his head.

His wife's cheeks flushed, and she stomped her small foot, clad in stylish high heels, on the ground.

Nicholas suppressed a grin, it looked rather hilarious. Slowly her voice became audible as Mrs Potter's visible frustrations with her recalcitrant husband's attitude mounted.

'Harry James Potter, quit being an insufferable git! Yes, I know we went through hell because of Molly's unfounded accusations. However, it's not her fault alone, things never would've got to this point if the Ropers and Dawlish weren't such power-hungry arses. Any Auror who knew how to do his job would've taken her statements into consideration, but would have soon discovered that the evidence didn't match her accusations and that would have been the end of it. They would have discarded them as the grief-driven wrong conclusions of a mother who'd lost a child and wanted to lash out. You can't blame the outcome solely on Molly, Harry!'

Mr Potter's face didn't lose its mulish expression, although he didn't look his wife into the eyes; he'd averted his glance and contemplated his shoes.

Mrs Potter let out a small huff, raised her hand, took his chin between her fingers, and turned his face until he was forced to look at her. 'Molly wronged me, yes, but she's also the mother and mother-in-law of four of our best friends, friends who have become family to us, especially since Father, Mother and Tori are no longer with us. We'll put them and their father and siblings into a very awkward situation if we were to continue to hold a grudge against Molly. They'd be forced to choose between us or their mother; that's a fine way to thank them for the support they gave us, honey!'

Her husband still didn't look convinced.

'Harry please… Stop being so stubborn. The Weasleys are quite literally the only family we have left, I won't allow this greek tragedy to cause a rift between us, I don't want our daughter to grow up without loving uncles and aunts and surrogate grandparents. I want her to have a big family, not just the two of us.'

Mr Potter's rigid posture relaxed and his resigned sigh rang through the courtroom. 'I'd like that, too,' he said in such a low voice that Nicholas had to strain his ears to understand him. He gave his wife a weak smile and spoke in a voice laced with pain and anguish, 'Alright, darling, you're right, I'm being somewhat stubborn, but this nearly crushed you, honey… No, crushed us, I was this close,' he held up his thumb and forefinger with a small gap between them, 'to losing you and I cannot live in a world where you don't exist.' He finished by resting his forehead against that of his wife. 'But for you and only you I will try.'

Mrs Potter placed her hands either side of his face and lifted his head so that she was looking into his eyes, tears leaking down the side of her face. She raised on her tiptoes and kissed him sweetly and softly on the lips. 'Thank you.'

Nicholas bit on the insides of his cheeks. Mrs Potter hardly ever let it on, but this little scene was a reminder she was a Slytherin to the core. She'd used an opportunity to her best advantage: at the present moment her husband wouldn't deny her anything, no matter how angry he was at Molly Weasley and wanted to show it.

The young couple turned towards Molly Weasley, who had listened to their exchange twisting her hands all the time, and her face becoming paler by the minute. When they looked at her, something like hope lit up in her eyes. She took a deep breath and moved towards them, halting a couple of paces from the couple where she stood, trembling that hard that she had to support herself on the backrest of the seat next to her.

Not a soul moved as Molly spoke, first quietly, but with growing strength, tears streaking down her cheeks. 'Daphne, there aren't words to tell you how sorry I am. I never should have accused you, despite the… lies Ginny told me about her renewed relationship with Harry and your alleged resistance to Harry's wish to leave you. I don't know what I've been thinking, Harry was so obviously happy with you all these years, and yet, when Ginny told me about their alleged plans to live together, I couldn't help but root for my daughter and see the enemy in you who stood in the way of her happiness. I…' Her voice broke, and a new wave of fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.

Mrs Potter disentangled herself from her husband's arms, stepped towards her, and hugged her. The two women remained like that for a long time and had a whispered conversation. When Mrs Potter let go off Molly Weasley, her face was wet, but both women had tentative smiles on their faces.

She turned to her husband, took his hand, and pulled him towards Molly Weasley.

He followed her almost willingly, albeit his taut face suggested he'd not be as forgiving as his wife.

Molly Weasley faltered under his stare.

A jolt seemed to go through Mr Potter, he exhaled and his posture lost some of its stiffness. He made one step towards Mrs Weasley and put a hand on her shoulder in an awkward movement.

That was all the encouragement Molly Weasley needed, the next second she swept the young man in a bone-crushing hug.

'Molly, let go of me… can't breathe,' he groaned through the chuckles of his wife and the other members of the Weasley clan who surrounded them, yet he raised his hands and patted Molly Weasley's back.

When she at last let go of him, her face once again was wet with fresh tears, but they both smiled, although Mr Potter's still seemed somewhat forced. They exchanged a few words, yet again too low for anyone outside of their circle to understand, and Mr Potter stepped towards his wife, put his arm around her waist and led her towards the door of the courtroom with a last nod towards the Weasleys.

Nicholas let out a deep breath; it was about time. While the Potter case was another feather in his cap, there was no denying he'd neglected his other clients over the demands of this case, and the work was piling up in his office. He really needed to get home, not to mention that Elizabeth also would be delighted to see more of him -

The hallway in front of the courtroom had emptied while the Potters reconciled with Molly Weasley. The torches at the wall sent eerie flickers across the tubular room, and the shadows behind the pillars that supported the ceiling seemed to be as black as night.

From the corner of his eye Nicholas caught the flicker of movement as a lighter shadow seemed to scurry behind one of the pillars opposite of the open doors of the courtroom. He jerked his head around and peered into the darkness. Was there someone standing behind the pillar? He strained his eyes even more.

The shadows danced and moved together in the flickering light of the torches; just as he was about to turn away a human figure materialised, with a wand in its hand. He stiffened. Was that wand aimed at Mrs Potter?

The hairs on Nicholas' neck and arms raised. Without thinking twice he stepped into the doorway, as if meeting the Potters who'd almost reached the entrance of the courtroom where Goldstein waited for them, thus making himself an obstacle between Mrs Potter and whoever it was lurking in the shadows, while he kept his head at an angle that enabled him to watch the shadows behind the pillar from the corner of his eye.

The Potters had almost reached him when the now moving shadow emerged from behind the pillar and crossed the torch-lit space of the hallway with long strides, only to disappear in the elevator the next second.

Nicholas stiffened and stared at the rising elevator for a long second. Why was Morten Williams lurking in the shadows, waiting for Mrs Potter? Had he really aimed his wand at Mrs Potter, or had that been an optical illusion, caused by the flickering torches? It seemed far fetched, the easygoing surfer boy was the last person on earth he'd think capable of something like that. Then again, he'd been exposed to public ridicule during his witness testimony. Did he want to take revenge for that? Nicholas frowned. Maybe Mrs Potter hadn't been his intended target, but Mr Goldstein.

He exhaled, and the muscles of his neck relaxed. Yes, that seemed more likely. He'd have to have a word with Goldstein about that. Yet a trace of uneasiness remained and nagged away at his thoughts.

'Mr Greco! I'd like to thank you for your excellent work.'

Nicholas turned around.

Anthony Goldstein came towards him with an outstretched hand and a broad smile on his face, closely followed by the Potters.

He took the offered hand. 'Thank you, Mr Goldstein. Realistically I just picked up the clues Dawlish chose to overlook.'

'What an apt choice of words,' Mr Potter said. He took Nicholas' hand after Goldstein had let go of and shook it vigorously. 'Mr Greco, there are no words that can truly convey my gratitude for what you've done for my family. I most assuredly won't forget your service.'

Warmth spread in Nicholas' chest as he reciprocated the handshake of the younger man. The Potters were such a likeable young couple, and both had been through more than their share of horrible events in their young lives. The knowledge he'd helped them to successfully battle the forces that had wanted to destroy them was already a huge reward in itself. Anything else would just be icing on the cake. Aloud he said, 'It was an honour, Mr Potter. What are your plans now?'

The younger man once again slipped his arm around his wife's waist. 'I'll take Daphne home and make sure she'll get some rest. With all the press out to get statements from us, we'll probably stay behind the wards of _The Rectory _for the foreseeable future. Maybe we'll go on a holiday as soon as things have calmed down a bit.' He looked down at his wife. 'What do you think, love?'

'I suppose it would be of no use to tell you I'm pregnant and not terminally ill,' she said with a small laugh and snuggled against her husband. 'Although a holiday sounds nice, you won't find me fighting that idea.'

Nicholas joined their laughter and let out an involuntary breath. He'd hate to spoil their apparent happiness, yet he still wasn't able to shake off the uneasiness that the little scene with Williams had cause within him. Had Mrs Potter been the intended target? There was no way to be sure, he'd have to go home and give this new problem some thought. At least the Potters would be safe behind the wards of _The Rectory._

_t.b.c._


	39. Chapter 39

_ **The Rectory, June 5th 2008** _

Would he ever again be able to let her out of his sight? Harry cast a look at the sleeping form of his wife, bathed in the golden rays of the late afternoon sun, and a small smile tugged at the edges of his lips.

She'd never let it on, of course, but he knew that the trial had taken a lot out of Daphne, she had been fraying at the edges and he'd felt powerless to stop those tugging at her loose ends. The moment they arrived at _The Rectory, _she'd changed from the formal suit and robes she'd worn to court into something more comfortable, and then settled down in her favourite sofa in the conservatory. To unwind, as she'd announced, but her eyes were already lidded and heavy. Not even five minutes had elapsed before she was sound asleep.

He'd sat down in the chair next to her, content to watch over her sleep. That had been two hours ago, and he'd as good as never averted his eyes from her. His lips curved fully into a wry smile. No doubt Daphne would have a few choice words on his bout of over-protectiveness if she ever found out. He needed to get a grip on himself, she wouldn't thank him for stifling her -

Daphne gave a low moan and stretched, and Harry sat upright. Her wonderful eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, and with a bright smile in them as she recognised him. 'Hello handsome.'

Her voice, still husky from sleep, sent a pleasant shiver down his back. He bent down and kissed her. 'Hello, sleeping beauty. Are you feeling better?'

'Much better.' She rewarded him with a blinding smile, swung her legs over the edge of the sofa and sat up, stretching her arms over her head with a huge yawn.

The pink glow in her cheeks lent credence to her words, albeit there were still faint lines of stress around her eyes and her mouth. With lots of rest and pampering they hopefully would be gone soon, he'd see to that, he had every intention to spoil her rotten and fully intended to ignore her protest whilst doing so.

She gave him a shrewd side glance. 'What are you planning, honey?' Her eyes narrowed into a fake glare. 'Don't deny it, I know that look!'

'Me? Colour me innocent and harmless.'

She snorted, moved from the sofa onto his lap, straddling him, and looked at him with mirthful eyes as she wrapped her arms around him. 'Out with it, mister.'

'Oh, I was just thinking about ways to spoil you rotten.' He slid his arms around her still narrow waist and gave a peck on her nose.

She made a face, but was all smiles the next moment. 'I was afraid of something like that. Oh well, as long as you don't overdo it, right now I'm not at all averse to the idea of being pampered.'

'I knew you'd see reason.' He leaned towards her to give her a proper kiss. A growling sound from Daphne's stomach stopped him and he smiled into her lips. 'Uh oh!'

'I'm hungry,' she said.

'That's kinda obvious, honey.' Another weight seemed to roll off his chest. His mouth curved into an amused smile that hid his relief. It was about time for her to eat properly again, he'd been seriously concerned about her lack of appetite. 'Shall I tell Mipsy to prepare something for you?'

She pondered his suggestion, her head tilted to one side, her eyes unfocused for a moment, then came to a conclusion. 'It feels as if I've been locked up here at _The Rectory _for ages, so I'd rather go out tonight. What about _Da Cosimo? _I'm craving some decent Italian food.'

'As my lady commands.' He leaned in and gave her another kiss. 'I'm glad your infamous appetite is back.'

'Prat!' She gave him a light slap on the arm and slid from his lap to go to their room and get changed.

One hour later Harry escorted his wife into _Da Cosimo. _The restaurant was situated in a converted mews building in Mayfair; as a tribute to the original use of the building the interior designer had decorated the restaurant with box-like partitions around the room. Each one held a table for four and was separated from its neighbour by a breast-high wall of wooden panels in the lower two-thirds, topped with dainty wrought-iron lattice work that enabled a full view of the restaurant, but gave an illusion of privacy nevertheless. Two benches, upholstered in bright and sunny yet earthy colours that reminded Harry of the holidays he and Daphne had spent in Tuscany, were built into the wooden walls opposite of each other.

The maitre d' greeted Harry and Daphne as valued customers and led them to their usual place in one of the boxes in a corner of the ground floor. Daphne slid into one of the benches, Harry sat down opposite of her, his back to the whitewashed wall, and accepted the menu the maitre d' handed him.

Daphne looked around the cozy restaurant with a content sigh as she opened her menu. 'It feels good to be somewhat back to normal.'

'I hear you there.' He smiled at her over the open menu in his hands. 'Anything special you want to do in the next couple of weeks? I was serious when I told Greco we're going to take some time off.'

'Sounds lovely.' Her gaze became mischievous. 'Well, first thing on my agenda is shopping.'

Harry groaned. 'I take it all back.'

Her dimples deepened. 'And here I thought you'd be ecstatic when I tell you my trousers are becoming uncomfortably tight in the waist.'

His stomach fluttered, and his breath hitched in his throat. He'd forgotten... This was really happening, wasn't it? He couldn't remember - how many years had he hoped in vain to be on the receiving end of his wife's complaints about the many aches and pains that came along with a pregnancy? He reached across the table for her hand and linked his fingers with hers. 'You're right, I am ecstatic. I can't wait to hear you complain about your swollen ankles, and that you look like a beached whale -'

'Ugh, do you have to remind me?'

They laughed. Daphne extricated her hand from his and returned to the menu in her hand. 'I think I'll have the _bruschetta al __pomodori_ for starters and _lasagna_ _al__forno _afterwards. Maybe some _tiramisu _for dessert, if I still have room for that.'

'I'm sure you'll manage.' Harry smirked and signalled for the waiter to take their orders.

That got him a mock-pout from his wife, to which he replied with a grin. Warmth spread in his chest, and he let out a deep breath. Daphne was right, it was good to have normality again.

Over their meal they made plans for their holiday. As much as they both loved _The Rectory,_ the house had become somewhat of a prison to Daphne over the last couple of weeks. Even worse, their residence was well known to the magical world, so their beloved walks in the countryside outside of the wards of the house were completely out of the question: they'd be besieged by the magical press as soon as they set one foot outside.

At last they agreed on a couple of weeks at the Greengrass vacation home in France. They hadn't been there once after that horrible night Poupette, the Greengrass house elf who cared for the house, had told them that their family had gone missing during the Portkey ride from Kent to Nice, Daphne couldn't bear it.

Harry waited until the waiter had cleared away their empty plates. 'What's different now, darling?' He grabbed for her hand across the table and stroked his thumb against hers. 'What's made you change your mind?'

A sound from the table opposite of him made him look up, and Daphne turned her head to look over her shoulder.

A young man supported himself on the flat of the table, obviously he'd stumbled over his own feet when he slid into the bench, and just barely prevented himself from faceplanting. At the gazes of the Potters he turned red, mumbled an apology and sat down.

There was nothing remarkable about him, he was just another young man like million others in London: on the smaller side, with plain features and mouse-coloured hair, and eyes of no discernable colour.

Yet there was something about him that made the hairs at the nape of Harry's neck stand up. He seemed familiar, yet he was all wrong. He listened with only half an ear to Daphne's answer.

'I don't know, I am different, I suppose.' Her other hand went instinctively over her stomach and she gave him a contented little smile, 'Being pregnant makes me think of all the happy times with my family. We used to spend summers there, Mother, Tori, and I, and Father came every weekend and stayed with us for at least two weeks each summer when he took his time off. He taught us how to swim at the pool there, he went sailing with us on the sea, and Tori and I played hide and seek in the pine wood surrounding the house. I want to build our own family traditions, but I also want our daughter to experience some of the adventures of my childhood.'

'That would be nice, I'd like that, too.' He played with the fingers of her hand, his attention still on the man in the adjoining booth, although he had his eyelids lowered. His gut still signalled danger; if he was right, it wouldn't do to alert him, and if he was wrong, it won't do to embarrass a complete stranger by staring at him.

Daphne creased her eyebrow. 'Is something wrong, Harry?'

'I'm not sure.' Damn, he didn't want to worry her, and yet… His eyes never left the stranger.

The man flipped his wrist in an all-too-familiar movement, and the next moment he held a wand in his hand.

Harry's heart seemed to stop, and his stomach dropped into a bottomless pitch.

The stranger raised his wand, there was a cruel glitter in his eyes, and his mouth twisted into a cold sneer.

'DAPH, DUCK!' Harry yelled as he released her hand and flicked his own wrist.

'AVADA KEDAVRA!'

_t.b.c._


	40. Chapter 40

_ **Nicholas Greco's house, June 5th 2008** _

Nicholas sat in his study, his tie pulled off and thrown into a corner of his desk, a glass of firewhiskey next to his elbow instead of a cup of tea, and the ledger that contained his bookkeeping in front of him. It was self-updating, thank Merlin, and showed a new entry whenever a payment was made into his business vault at Gringotts. The goblins, those greedy bastards, took a hefty fee for this service, but it was worth every single Knut. He'd be hard pressed to find the time to do his accounting on top of all his work. It wouldn't be fair to ask Elizabeth to do it for him, her schedule was as full as his with her work as a mediwitch at St Mungo's. Besides that, she detested paperwork even more than he did.

His eyes lingered on the last entry: the payment from the Potters, plus, as promised by Mr Potter, a very generous bonus. Warmth spread in his chest, he ought to take the time tomorrow and visit the Potters and thank them in person. After that, he'd clear his schedule, he was overdue for a holiday, and Elisabeth would be happy to have some quality time with him. Thanks to Mr Potter's generosity he'd surprise her with the trip to Australia she'd dreamed of for so many years, but always dismissed as too expensive: there was the mortgage to pay or their children in need of this or that.

He closed the ledger with a contented sigh and leaned back in his chair, picked up the glass of firewhiskey and swirled it, watching as the smokey amber liquid rolled around his tumbler.

There was no denying he'd done many things right in the Potter case, there was, however, always room for improvement. Not to mention there were still some loose ends that were prickling at the back of his brain. As of yet he'd made no progress into the investigation of the many accidents that had befallen the Potters, namely the incident on the night of promotional party. It had taken a backseat to the investigation of Ginny Weasley's death.

He picked up the folder that held the details of that incident and leafed through the pages until his eyes came to rest on the list of people who'd been present.

Draco Malfoy, allegedly reformed Death Eater and former childhood nemesis of Mr Potter.

Sophie Malfoy, nee Roper, his wife. Probably he should look into her connection to Geoffrey Roper and his sister, the hopefully soon to be ex-Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He considered the possibility, then shook his head, he doubted that Geoffrey Roper would deign to allow the now disgraced Malfoy line that close to his own.

Theodore Nott, Malfoy's best friend, his echo and amplifier during his Hogwarts days.

Roger Davies, Malfoy's lawyer, a slimeball if he'd ever seen one, yet damned good at his job, almost as good as Goldstein from all reports. He'd bailed Malfoy out of prison more times than he'd care to admit. However, there was no discernable motive for harming Daphne Potter.

Blaise Zabini, may his soul rot in hell.

Cormac McLaggen, so full of himself that it was a miracle he didn't explode. He'd been a failed candidate years ago when he applied for a job at Crystal Fairy. Was that slight enough to let him search revenge years later? It sounded far fetched, yet stranger things had happened.

But what about his wife, Pansy? She and Mrs Potter had been dorm mates; Mrs McLaggen-Parkinson had ruled the roost back then, she'd designated herself to become the new queen of magical society as soon as she had left school, while Mrs Potter had been the overlooked wallflower. Magical history had reversed their roles in the last ten years in the most dramatic way. Mrs Potter's influence among the women and teenaged girls in magical Britain could not be overstated, and he struggled to think of a woman who was more influential; not since the early days of Narcissa Malfoy's reign as a charitable force had one woman dominated the social pages and epitomised what it was to be intelligent, elegant and sophisticated. Mrs McLaggen-Parkinson in comparison had faded into insignificance not long after her marriage. Was that enough for an attack?

Then there were the employees of Crystal Fairy: Pince, Abbott, Pyke, and the new representative of Elias Frudge's company. Mrs Potter had stood at an adjoining table, together with Director McLean, his deputy Patterson, and the two other potion master, Cadwallader and Williams.

His eyes lingered on the last name.

Morten Williams.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose. The name came up much too often for his liking in both cases. Williams had been present during both attacks on Mrs Potter's life, and Williams had sent the pictures of Mr Potter with Ginny Weasley to the D,M.L.E.. For what reason? It suggested he had a motive of wanting Mrs Potter behind prison bars. Why? The only connection between him and the Potters was his job, and there was not the slightest hint they had any problems in that area.

He leafed through the folder until he came to the report about Morten Williams his contact had sent him from the USA. His eyes got stuck on another name: Alexander Carrington.

His stomach hardened, and he gasped.

Was that the missing link?

His hands clutched the folder until his knuckles stood out white as he stared down on the parchment in front of him without really seeing a thing, while he reexamined the facts he knew about both men.

Williams and Carrington were roommates at school.

Williams had emigrated to magical Britain about five years ago and broke off all contact with his family.

Carrington had left the USA around the same time and lived in Paris ever since then. According to his neighbours he was a hermit who was never seen outside of the house.

Carrington was almost as rich as the Potters.

Williams lived a lifestyle that exceeded his means, and his flat was owned by Carrington through a chain of companies.

And then there was the elf. How could he have been that blind? An elf with the same injury had opened him the door at Williams' flat in London and at Carrington's house in Paris. The odds that this was coincidental were astronomically small, near zero. It had to have been the same elf on both occasions.

His heart missed a beat and then almost thumped out of his chest.

What if Williams and Carrington were the same person?

His hands became clammy and moist, and he lowered the folder onto his desk. Could that be? It sounded so far-fetched. And yet he knew that it had happened before, the story of the fake Alastair Moody teaching at Hogwarts for almost a year came to mind…

He took a deep breath, he had to stay calm and look at all the facts as unemotional as possible, too much depended on that.

Carrington must have held Williams captive somewhere for almost five years, to have easy access his hair so that he could assume his looks with the help of Polyjuice Potion. That fit with Williams' silence towards his family for that period of time. Carrington had made one big mistake, however, used to the finer things in life, he wasn't able to part with his lifestyle and lived on a scale that the poor Morton Williams never could have afforded.

But what purpose was behind that charade?

An ice-cold fear seemed to enclose his heart in a fist. With trembling hands he searched for the file Mr Potter had sent him a couple of days ago, after the end of the first day of Mrs Potter's trial, and opened it. It was about Cyrus Greengrass' brother and his relation to the Greengrass family after he had been disinherited.

Mr Potter had scribbled a question beside his last report in his untidy scrawl: _What if Damian Greengrass' son wants to exact revenge for his father and is after Daphne?_

That was it, Carrington had been hidden in plain sight all the time in the guise of Morten Williams and used each opportunity that presented itself to him to kill Mrs Potter. He'd bet his PI licence that Wiliams was the one behind the two attacks on Mrs Potter, the potion incident five years ago that killed her unborn baby, as well as the "bbq-grill accident" on the night of the promotional party. He wouldn't be surprised, either, if Carrington turned out to be the driving force behind all the other accidents the Potters had had. Apparently he'd also used the opportunity the criminal investigation against Mrs Potter presented and sent presumably damning evidence to the D.M.L.E. to get her into Azkaban. When that plan didn't work, he resorted to another direct attack in the Ministry.

His breath caught in his chest. At least he'd prevented that as he walked between Williams' wand and Mrs Potter.

He jumped up from his chair. There was no time to lose, the Potters needed to be informed of that latest discovery before they ventured out of _The Rectory, _and then he'd put Head Auror Weasley on Carrington's heels.

He ran down the stairs and grabbed his coat from the peg of the coat rack in the hallway. 'I'm going out, Elizabeth, don't wait for me for dinner.'

The door to the kitchen opened, the mouth-watering aroma of home-cooked pot-roast permeated the small corridor, and his wife stuck her head out of the door. 'But what -'

'I'm sorry, love, I promise I'll make it up to you when I'm back,' he said, his hand already at the door handle.

Elizabeth's resigned sigh followed him out of the door, and his stomach gave an uncomfortable twist. How many times had he disappointed her like this in their marriage? Too many to count, of that he was certain, he promised himself that the holiday to Australia would go ahead, even if he had to drop a couple of cases to do it.

He reached the Apparition Point, all thoughts of his wife sunk into the background as he concentrated and turned on the spot.

A split-second later he re-appeared on the Apparition Point of _The Rectory. _He lost no time and rushed towards the gate of the house. It opened under the touch of his hand.

Matty was already waiting for him at the open front door.

'I need to talk to your master and mistress, it's urgent,' he near shouted, before even he had reached the door.

The bat-like ears of the small creature drooped. 'Matty bes sorry, Master Harry and Mistress Daffy not bes at home.'

Nicholas stopped in his tracks. Damned, he hadn't counted on them leaving the house tonight, he'd thought Mrs Potter too stressed out by the trial to want to go out. 'Can you tell me where they are?'

Matty hesitated.

'It's very important, Matty. They are in great danger, and their lives might depend on it.'

The large eyes of the small creature grew even bigger and it wrung its hands. 'Master Harry took Mistress Daffy to their favourite restaurant in Muggle London.'

'Can you take me to them? There's no time to lose.'

He had no idea where that urgency came from, but his gut told him not to waste precious time.

Matty nodded, vanished, appeared next to him and grabbed his hand. The next moment they stood in a tiny backyard, behind a row of waste bins.

'The restaurant bes across the street,' the elf said and pointed with a spidery finger at a two-storey high mews house.

Nicholas lost no time. Thankfully he had developed the habit of dressing in a conservative Muggle suit and tie when working, even if for the first time, his tie was still sitting on his desk at home. You never knew when you would have to make a mad dash to the Muggle world in his job, even without the tie he didn't need to be concerned about raising the suspicions of the Muggles when he entered the restaurant.

He strode across the street and pushed the door to the restaurant open. The welcoming smell of freshly baked Italian bread with garlic and a homely interior greeted him.

His eyes scanned the room.

The Potters sat in a box in one corner of the room. Mrs Potter had her back to him, Mr Potter sat, his back to the wall, overlooking the restaurant. His eyes were fixed on the single man in the adjoining box, and his expression was taut.

So, his gut feeling had been right. Something was decidedly off. Nicholas' wand sprung into his hand at the same moment as Mr Potter yelled, 'DAPHNE, DUCK!'

'AVADA KEDAVRA!' a cold voice shouted, and a green flash raced towards the box of the Potters.

_t.b.c._


	41. Chapter 41

_ **Ristaurante Da Cosimo, London, June 5th 2008** _

The green flash raced towards Daphne's head.

Harry froze.

Daphne slumped bonelessly to one side.

The poison green spell raced towards him. He blinked and his whole body became weightless with giddiness. She survived!

'Move, idiot!' Daphne screamed.

He lent to his left, but kept his wand trained on Carrington. The spell sizzled at him, it tugged at his jacket before it flashed past, and the wall behind him exploded under its impact. Tiny shards of red bricks and mortar pelted his back as he straightened, and finer dust rained down from above.

He didn't care. His steady hand pointed his wand at his opponent. One wrong move, and he'd blast the bastard into the next dimension or maybe even the one after that. Making sure that Carrington couldn't see what he was doing, he signalled Daphne with his left hand to get lower and she dropped onto the floor silently, her eyes wide and fearful.

He ground out, 'Give up, Carrington. Your game is over.'

The bastard didn't even flinch. His wand pointed at him, ready to cast at the tiniest sign of weakness, his face morphed into an ugly sneer.

'So you've finally caught on, have you Potter. Congratulations, it only took you five whole years. What gave me away, if I may ask? For it surely must have been a mistake on my side, you're too dumb to draw the right conclusions, given the plethora of evidence before you.'

Harry ignored the taunts. Just like his opponent he waited for an opening.

'You know, I once held a wizard at wandpoint who was far more powerful than you, although just like you he loved to try to belittle and taunt me. Not that it did him any good in the end, he's been six feet under for more than ten years now. Oh, but you know that already, don't you? Weren't you and your parents among his little group of fanatical brown nosers? Tell me, how bright was the light after you pulled your head out of Voldemort's arse?'

'Don't you dare say his name, you filthy half blood!' Carrington's face turned into a crimson mask of hate, loathing and fear.

Harry shrugged. 'Well it's not really his name, is it, but alright, I don't want you to wet your pants. To answer your question, your body language gave you away, and you also possess a faint likeness to Cyrus. You might have disguised your appearance with Polyjuice for five years so you looked like Williams, but you didn't change the way you move.'

A man clad into an impeccable Muggle suit minus his tie turned up slightly left of Carrington's shoulder, a wand pointed at the back of Carrington's head.

Harry almost sagged with relief and gratitude. Greco! Between the two of them they should be able to overcome the bastard, if he had the room to move he wouldn't need the help, but he was currently pinned in this booth. He had to make sure the bastard had no more opportunities to hurt Daphne. He'd better keep talking to distract him.

'Just out of curiosity, what happened to the real Williams, the poor sod?'

Carrington sneered at him.

Behind Carrington's shoulder, Greco held up three fingers. Harry didn't bat an eyelid.

'I've kept the imbecile in a hidden compartment in my trunk.'

Greco bent one finger down.

'I'll get rid of him as soon as I've dealt with you and your whore.' Carrington taunted him again, his voice full of hate.

Greco's second finger went down.

'Taking a page out of your masters book, aren't you? He failed, and you'll also fail.'

'I wont! The Greengrass fortune will be mine to control, and the Potter fortune on top of it!' Carrington screeched. 'I got Cyrus and the two bitches with that Portkey, and today will have seen the last of you and your whore!'

Greco lowered his hand.

'BOMBARDA MAXIMA!' he and Harry shouted unison. Harry put all magical strength he possessed into that spell. Carrington's confession that he had murdered Cyrus, Isabella and Tori doubled his power.

Both spells impacted with Carrington's head and chest at the same moment. His skull cracked open like a melon hitting the ground, and a huge hole appeared in his chest.

There was a long moment of silence. No one in the room moved.

'Well, he was a presumptuous little bastard, wasn't he,' Greco said at last, and stared down at the crumpled mass sprawled across the table of the booth that once had been Carrington.

'Uh-huh,' Harry said. His eyes searched for his wife.

She was still hidden behind the bench of their booth, her wand in her hand. At the metallic smell of blood in the air she gagged and pressed her hand in front of her mouth.

Harry stashed his wand away and rushed to his wife. 'Come on, darling, let me get you out of here. Close your eyes and don't look, what's left of Carrington is not a sight for an expectant mummy.' He held out his hand and helped her to her feet.

Daphne's hand was clammy, and her breath came in shallow gulps. She trembled all over her body and had her eyes closed.

He put his arm around her waist and led her past the frozen Muggles in the restaurant towards the door. From the corner of his eyes he caught the silhouette of a silvery four-legged animal. A fox? He didn't care, Merlin bless Greco that he'd thought of alerting the Aurors, and probably the Obliviator Squad, too.

He opened the door and led Daphne outside.

Out on the pavement, he took her in his arms and rubbed her back in soothing circles. 'Shh, love, it's alright, it's finally over, we're safe now.'

She nodded and buried her head deeper into his shoulder. Eventually, the trembling subsided and her breath became even.

He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. 'I'd love to take you home, darling, but I guess we'll have to stay until the Aurors took our statement, or Ron will never let me hear the end of it.'

'Too right,' a voice said behind him.

Harry whirled around, his wand flowing into his hand at the ready.

'Whoa, hold in your Hippogriffs, Potter!' Ron raised his hands and took a step back.

Heat shot into Harry's face. 'Sorry, mate.' He let the wand slip back into its holster. 'Right now I'm a trifle jumpy.'

'No kidding.' Ron cocked his head towards the restaurant. 'What happened inside there?'

'Carrington.' Daphne stiffened at the name, and Harry tightened his grip around her. 'He came after us tonight. He's masked himself as Williams with Polyjuice for five years. He's the one responsible for the two attacks on Daphne, and probably also all those accidents that happened to us. It was his body language tonight that gave him away, he moved like Williams and I got suspicious, but didn't act before he could fire the Killing Curse at Daphne. It missed, obviously, although it was a close call.'

Ron's mouth became a grim line. 'Bastard. You dealt with him?'

Harry grimaced and nodded. 'Yeah, together with Greco. You'll find him and what's left of Carrington inside of the restaurant.'

'Is that so?' Ron's eyebrows shot up, and he gave Harry a respectful nod. 'In that case, good for you. Although I must say I didn't think you had it in you.'

Harry's stomach tightened into a hard ball as the impact of what he'd done sank in. He'd killed a man in cold blood for the first time in his life. Voldemort didn't count, he'd brought on his own death on himself by choosing to cast the Killing Curse with a wand that owed its allegiance to Harry. He always thought of that as collateral damage. This time, however…

He listened into himself for the familiar feeling of guilt and found - nothing. Carrington would have been a constant threat to his family, even if they'd captured him and brought him to Azkaban he wouldn't have felt safe. The world was better off without him.

He shrugged. 'I wasn't exactly out to kill him, I just chose the spell that would cause the most damage across a wide area, without giving a damn for a lethal outcome.'

Ron gave him a knowing look. 'Good for you,' he repeated. Then he took a deep breath. 'Alright, Harry, take Daphne home. Merlin knows you two have been through far too much during these past weeks. I'll deal with the mess inside and come over to your place tomorrow morning and take your statements.'

Harry gave his friend a small smile of thanks. 'Thank you, Ron, you're a good friend.'

He was about to take his friends advice when Ron looked past him and nodded at someone over his shoulder, so he turned his own head around.

Nicholas Greco stood a few yards behind them, his head tilted back and seemingly looking up at the night sky. Though, given this was London, no stars were visible, so what was the man looking at? Was he trying to find his inner balance after he'd just helped killing a man, or was he just trying to pass time until the Aurors were finished with the mess he'd created together with Harry?

Ron gave his shoulder a squeeze and then moved towards the restaurant. He stopped when he reached Greco and muttered a brief comment.

Greco nodded his ascent and then turned towards Harry, who still cradled his wife in his arms.

Before Harry could open his own mouth Greco had beaten him to it, 'Mr Potter I just wanted to say ... '

Harry cut him off, 'It's Harry to you Nicholas, you've just helped save my wife's and my life, so please call me Harry.'

Greco look momentarily taken aback before a small frown appeared. 'Not sure I have earned that right, Harry, but thank you. I just wish I had put the clues of Carrington masquerading as William's together sooner.'

Harry smiled at the man and held Daphne tighter to himself, her shaking had almost subsided. 'You still figured it out before anyone else, Nicholas, and you came as soon as you could. We couldn't ask for more than that, so thank you.'

Greco shook himself. 'Sorry I didn't mean to keep you, you should get Daphne home. I just wanted to thank you for the generous bonus, as I am not sure when I will see you next.' A wry smile broke across his face. 'I'm planning to take my wife for a long overdue holiday to Australia with it as soon as I can arrange four weeks off for us both.'

'That's a very good idea Nicholas, but I have a better one, schedule your time off and then schedule a meeting with us in a couple of weeks. I'll have a… well, a token of our thanks for you then.' He almost laughed at the shocked look that appeared on Greco's face before he looked down on the head of his wife against his shoulder. She looked pale and tired to her bones. It was high time to get her home. He gave her a small nudge. 'Come on, love, let's get you home.' He tightened his arms around her, spun on the spot, and Apparated her away, into a hopefully bright future.

_t.b.c._


	42. Chapter 42

**Epilogue**

_ **London, June 2009** _

Daphne left St Mungo's through the revolving doors that led to Muggle London and lifted her face up towards the warm summer sun. She briefly wondered if it was as sunny in Germany where the Greco's were now, on their second Potter paid vacation. Which reminded her that they really ought to stop talking about visiting Andy and Teddy in New Zealand and actually book their own holiday before they ran out of time again.

Her health exam had taken much longer than scheduled, due to some rather unexpected developments, and Harry would probably be walking a hole into their office carpet by now. She smiled, he was so overprotective when it came to her and their daughter, but she loved him even more for that.

A free black cab approached the building. All of a sudden not in the mood for a ride on the tube, she raised her arm to signal the driver.

The car pulled to the curb, she opened the door, climbed inside, and told the driver the address of the headquarters of Crystal Fairy in Langbourn.

If he wondered what brought a smartly dressed business woman into that somewhat shabby part of London near King's Cross, he didn't let on, just nodded gave a 'Right you are, love,' and pulled the car back onto the street. Thankfully he wasn't one for talking, either, just giving her an occasional glance in the revision mirror.

With a silent thanks for his silence Daphne closed her eyes, leaned her head against the headrest, and took the unexpected break in her busy life to count her blessings.

She had many of them.

Who would have thought eleven years ago that she and Harry would be blissfully happy and madly in love? Her mouth curved into a soft smile. They'd had such an unhappy beginning, and yet they'd made the most of it.

The happiest day in her life, however, had been the fifteenth of January this year, the day when their daughter was born. They had waited so long for that day, they'd given up all hope of having a family of more than just the two of them. When Healer Payne had told them of her pregnancy, right after her arrest for her alleged murder of Ginny, it had been like a miracle, a golden ray of sunshine in a desperate time.

She sobered. Ginny had been dead for more than a year now, and Molly still wasn't completely her old self, there was a brittleness to her that Harry said reminded him of right after the war when Fred Weasley had died. She'd not known the Weasley matriarch well enough back then to notice, but she trusted her husband's judgement on this.

Neither was their relationship back to what it had been before the trial, no matter how hard they'd all tried. At least things had taken a huge turn for the better ever since little Callie's birth, Arthur and Molly had become her surrogate grandparents, just as they had hoped, and loved her as if she was their own granddaughter.

Only two weeks after Callista's birth Hermione had given birth to her second child, Hugo. Daphne liked to tease Ron that Hugo was a month early and that she was elated her acquittal was the cause of so much celebration in their house, even if Hermione vehemently denied this being the case, she was totally adamant that she'd been pregnant before Daphne's trial and that they hadn't had celebratory sex because Ron was working for most of the night, thanks to the incident at _Da Cosimo's_. When Lisa followed one month later with her third one, this time a little girl, she couldn't help but laugh and give them both a knowing look every time the subject came up.

Two months after the trial had been completed, they got an owl from Anthony and then read the next day in the Sunday Prophet about his surprise engagement. By Wednesday they had an invite to attend the wedding not three weeks later.

She'd had to hastily arrange a suitable dress as her baby bump was just making its first appearance and Harry had been his overly protective self ensuring that no-one accidently bumped into her tummy.

She'd heard of the classic wandpoint wedding, and although Anthony seemed to be on the receiving end of some very dark glares from the father of his long-time girlfriend, Lexie Brocklehurst, Daphne was positive that neither Anthony nor his beautiful bride noticed once Lexie started walking down the aisle, as they only had eyes for each other.

Lexie, who was the younger sister of their classmate Mandy, and also a former Ravenclaw, had been one of Astoria's best friends when they attended Hogwarts. After they had reconnected Lexi and Daphne had spent several afternoons together reduced to what they both called a sea of hormonal tears of sadness and joy as they remembered Tori.

Eventually Lexie had become a permanent fixture in her life and started joining her with the other girls in their frequent get Goldstein's little boy, Paul, had been born one day after Lisa's daughter, so maybe the Weasleys and Finch-Fletchleys weren't the only ones who had been in jubilant mood and celebrated her acquittal horizontally.

This meant Molly had her hands full of babies as they each took up her offers of babysitting, given that most of their parents still worked and they wanted their kids to know one another. It was a perfect solution that allowed them all to return to some sort of part time work at least. As soon as Molly had met Anthony and Lexie at one of their Shell Cottage gatherings, she'd had even less time to dwell on her loss, as she extended her babysitting offer to include them, hopefully all those babies would bring Molly some semblance of peace in time.

Alexander Carrington had also been dead for more than a year now. She shuddered, even one year later she didn't like to admit that she was related by blood to that monster. What he'd done to poor Morten Williams…

True to Carrington's bragging the Aurors had found the real Morten Williams in a secret compartment of the trunk Carrington kept as a bar in his study. Physically, he was alright, Carrington had seen to that by a copious use of Compulsion Charms, mind-altering potions, and the liberal application of the Imperius Curse, that all forced his victim to take care of himself. To reach his goals, he'd needed Williams to be in a top shape, so he'd installed an impressive array of exercise equipment in the trunk and made sure the man had maintained a healthy diet.

Mentally, however, the real Williams was an empty shell of a man. All those charms and potions and curses had destroyed his mind and his magic. Yet his parents had been overjoyed to see him again after the long years they'd thought he'd turned his back on them.

Williams now lived in a private special-care home, close to his parent's house, where he had a huge, sunlit room and all the exercise equipment he asked for. She'd made sure that the real Williams had everything he'd need for the rest of his life, and that his parents also were well taken care of.

As the last living member of the Greengrass family she had become Carrington's heir. What an irony, since he'd wanted to kill her to get at her and Harry's gold!

It wasn't until Daphne had called the former Carrington elf, Seedy, that they had discovered the depth of those plans and how he had found them at the restaurant that night. As Daphne was "family", Seedy knew where she was and had been forced to relay this information back to his Master. There were far more attempts on their lives than they had realised, but the last straw was the confirmation that Carrington hadn't been talking out his arse in the restaurant that night and had actually arranged the deaths of Daphne's mother, father and sister, as a magical DNA analysis of the manipulated Portkey confirmed: it had traces of Carrington's DNA, since the Polyjuice Potion altered the appearance, but not the DNA.

Once she knew that, she and Harry had set about trying to annihilate and obliterate the Carrington empire from the public's psyche. Nothing of that horrible name ought to remain.

Seedy had been healed as best they could, given the long delay in treatment, though he still only had about sixty percent movement in the shoulder that Carrington had damaged. He was now helping them destroy what his Master's and Mistresses had once built.

They still were in the process of selling the estate, and collecting the gold in a special trust vault. They'd probably need another year to wrap up the last of the businesses, and then they'd take the gold and put it into a huge charity to make up for the injustices of Pureblood Supremacism in Britain as well as in the USA. Hah, that should make all three Carringtons roll in their graves! Especially when they named it the Astoria Greengrass Trust, a daughter that the Carrington's would have likely thought should have been drowned at birth

The cab had reached her destination during her musings, Daphne absentmindedly paid the driver and climbed out of the car.

So much had changed in her life, yet the entrance hall of the headquarters of Crystal Fairy still was the same. She nodded a short hello to the receptionist and took the elevator to the topmost floor of offices, where the conference rooms and her and Harry's office were.

Fleur sat behind their assistant's desk, one ear on the telephone receiver, and scribbling down notes while she uhm-ed and ah-ed at what whoever was on the other end of the line said. She gave her a small wave with the biro in her hand and returned her attention back to the call.

Daphne opened the door to her and Harry's office. This also hadn't changed, they refused to have separate offices, even though she didn't work as much anymore as she'd done before her pregnancy.

Neither did Harry.

Little Callista took precedence in their lives, and still the company thrived. They'd delegated quite a lot of their daily duties to their directors and promoted some others including some friends into new positions. Harry had also finally convinced Anthony to join them on the board as general council, although Daphne had conducted a fair bit of behind the scenes lobbying of Lexie about this too, so all in all things were very good...

The indignant wail of a very small child greeted her when she walked into the room.

'Uh oh, what's wrong, Grouchetta?' she asked the tiny bundle at her husband's shoulder, and bent down to give first her daughter, then her husband a kiss in greeting.

Harry shot her a reproachful look over their daughter's head. 'Do you have to ask? Her Ungraciousness is hungry, that's all. Like mother, like daughter, right, my little princess?'

Callista let out a sound that might be interpreted as consent, stuffed her little fist into her mouth and sucked at it, her forehead creased into deep frowns.

Harry dropped a kiss on his daughter's head and looked up. 'Be a dear and get her bottle, or she'll scream bloody murder in another minute.'

'Language, honey. She'll talk sooner than you know.' Daphne chuckled and walked into the adjoining room to get Callie's bottle. Neither she nor Harry had wanted to be separated from their little daughter for long work days, so they'd turned Cyrus former office next to theirs into a nursery, with an always open door joining both rooms. It was a common occurrence these days to find Harry or her with the baby at their shoulder while they answered phone calls or mail, or even received visitors.

What use was it to be your own boss if you couldn't adjust your workspace to meet the needs of your family? Maybe they needed to have a creche built for all the company babies? Well, that was something to ponder later.

Mipsy met her halfway into the sunlit nursery, Callie's bottle at the ready.

Daphne thanked the little elf, took the bottle, and returned to the office.

Harry had already settled down in the leather couch of the reception area, a meanwhile rather grumpy baby at his shoulder.

She handed him the bottle and sat down beside him. For long minutes they watched their feeding daughter in a contented silence.

'So how was your health exam? Is everything alright? Why did it take so long for you to get back?' Harry asked at length.

'It couldn't have gone better.' A soft smile played around her lips.

Harry's eyes narrowed. 'You're hiding something from me, darling. Out with it, what did the healer say?'

She bent towards him and kissed him. 'Stop worrying, honey, I'm perfectly fine.'

'Daphne…!'

Her smile deepened. 'What do you think about enlarging the nursery, honey? According to Healer Payne we'll need two more cribs in January next year.'

'T… two what?'

His grip around the bottle slackened. The tit glided out of Callista's tiny mouth.

Daphne's laughter was drowned out by the irate wail of their daughter.

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About two years ago I read about the Snowflake Method as a tool for easier plotting. Curious as I am, I had to give it a try, and about four weeks later I had a plan for a story and a list of 100+ scenes planned out.
> 
> Shygui and I had traded PMs for quite some time back then, and we got to talk about what I was writing on. Next thing, I invited him to my cloud to have a look at my list of scenes and the epilogue that was already written.
> 
> He started to add his thoughts and suggestions, and before I knew it we had the most amazing writing collaboration I've ever experienced. Well, you know the rest.
> 
> Today, almost two years and almost 350 k words later, we've finally finished MoC. To say that feels weird is an understatement.
> 
> I can't repeat enough how much this story owes to Shygui. He did much more than catching my spelling and grammar errors and translating my sometimes weird German-inspired dialogues into proper spoken English. He suggested the introduction of more characters and a couple of plot twists that added depth to the story. Also, all over the story there are many small additions from him, whenever he felt the readers might like some more information or would like a sneak peak into what a character thought. Thanks to him, the story became multi-dimensional.
> 
> So, please, give him s shout:
> 
> Thank you, Shygui! You are the best!
> 
> Also, I'm absolutely humbled how many of you stuck with this story, waited patiently for each new chapter, and reviewed faithfully chapter for chapter. You kept me going, even though there have been times I wished I had never again to write one word of this story. I didn't want to disappoint you, so I pulled myself together and wrote the next chapter. So, another big
> 
> Thank you!
> 
> goes to you for your support.


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